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Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep." 

Canto i. 1. 



MARMION 



A POEM IN SIX CANTOS 



BY 

SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 



OTttf) 5HIustrati0ns 



By GARRETT, SHELTON, SHEPPARD, TAYLOR 

AM) OTHERS 






NEW YORK 
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

13 Astor Place 









Copyright 

By T. Y. Crowell & Co. 

1884. 



RIGHT HONORABLE 

HENRY, LORD MONTAGUE, 

THIS ROMANCE IS INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction 

Canto I. Introduction. To Wm, Stewart Rose 

The Castle ...... 

Canto II. Introduction. To Rev. John Marriott 

The Convent 

Canto III. Introduction. To William Erskine . 

The Hostel, or Inn .... 
Canto IV. Introduction. To James Skene . 

The Camp 

Canto V. Introduction. To George Ellis 

The Court 

Canto VI. Introduction. To Richard Heber 

The Battle . . 

Appendix ......... 



7 
17 
32 
59 

70 

99 
109 

135 

144 

i73 
i8r 
223 

234 
281 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Drawn and Engraved under the supervision of 
George T. Andrew. 



'• Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep." 

— Canto i, i. E. H. Garrett. Frontispiece. 

; ' His bugle-horn he blew." 

— Canto I, Hi. W. H. Shelton. 34 

'• But strode across the hall of state, 
And fronted Marmion where he sate." 

— Canto i, xxviii. W. L. Sheppard. 54 

" Before them stood a guilty pair.'' 

— Canto 2, xx. W. L. Taylor. 87 

'• Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 
Right opposite the Palmer stood." 

— Canto 3, v. W. L. Sheppard. 112 

" Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 
And from the hostel slowly rode." 

— Canto 3, xxix. W. H. Shelton. 132 

'• First came the trumpets, at whose clang 
So late the forest echoes rang." 

— Canto 4, vi. W. H. Shelton. 148 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



" Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene." 

— Canto 4, xxv. E. H. Garrett. 165 

" Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
And then around the silent ring." 

— Canto 5, xt. W. L. Sheppard. 194 

" Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer : 
I give this packet to thy care." 

— Canto 5, xxtv. W.L.Taylor. 209 

" Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " 

— Canto 6, xiv. W. H. Shelton. 249 

" With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade." 

— Canto 6, xxxii. W. L. Sheppard. 271 



INTRODUCTION. 



What I have to say respecting this Poem may be briefly told. 
In the Introduction to the "Lay of the Last Minstrel, 11 I have 
mentioned the circumstances, so far as my literary life is con- 
cerned, which induced me to resign the active pursuit of an 
honorable profession, for the more precarious resources of litera- 
ture. My appointment to the Sheriffdom of Selkirk called for 
a change of residence. I left, therefore, the pleasant cottage I 
had upon the side of the Esk, for the " pleasanter banks of 
the Tweed, 11 in order to comply with the law, which requires 
that the Sheriff shall be resident, at least during a certain num- 
ber of months, within his jurisdiction. We found a delightful 
retirement, by my becoming the tenant of my intimate friend 
and cousin-german, Colonel Russel, in his mansion of Ashestiel, 
which was unoccupied during his absence on military service in 
India. The house was adequate to our accommodation, and the 
exercise of a limited hospitality. The situation is uncommonly 
beautiful, by the side of a fine river, whose streams are there 
very favorable for angling, surrounded by the remains of natural 
woods, and by hills abounding in game. In point of society, ac- 
cording to the heartfelt phrase of Scripture, we dwelt "amongst 
our own people " ; and as the distance from the metropolis was 
only thirty miles, we were not out of reach of our Edinburgh 
friends, in which city we spent the terms of the summer and 
winter Sessions of the Court, that is, five or six months in the 
year. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 



An important circumstance had, about the same time, taken 
place in my life. Hopes had been held out to me from an in- 
fluential quarter, of a nature to relieve me from the anxiety 
which I must have otherwise felt, as one upon the precarious 
tenure of whose own life rested the principal prospects of his 
family, and especially as one who had necessarily some depend- 
ence upon the favor of the public, which is proverbially capricious ; 
though it is but justice to add, that, in my own case, I have not 
found it so. Mr. Pitt had expressed a wish to my personal 
friend, the Right Honorable William Dundas, now Lord Clerk 
Register of Scotland, that some fitting opportunity should be 
taken to be of service to me ; and as my views and wishes 
pointed to a future rather than an immediate provision, an op- 
portunity of accomplishing this was soon found. One of the 
Principal Clerks of Session, as they are called (official persons 
who occupy an important and responsible situation, and enjoy 
a considerable income), who had served upwards of thirty years, 
felt himself, from age, and the infirmity of deafness with which 
it was accompanied, desirous of retiring from his official situa- 
tion. As the law then stood, such official persons were entitled 
to bargain with their successors, either for a sum of money, which 
was usually a considerable one, or for an interest in the emolu- 
ments of the office during their life. My predecessor, whose 
services had been unusually meritorious, stipulated for the emolu- 
ments of his office during his life, while I should enjoy the sur- 
vivorship, on the condition that I discharged the duties of the 
office in the meantime. Mr. Pitt, however, having died in the 
interval, his administration was dissolved, and was succeeded by 
that known by the name of the Fox and Grenville Ministry. My 
affair was so far completed, that my commission lay in the office 
subscribed by his Majesty ; but, from hurry or mistake, the in- 
terest of my predecessor was not expressed in it, as had been 



MARMION. 



usual in such cases. Although, therefore, it only required pay- 
ment of the fees, I could not in honor take out the commission 
in the present state, since, in the event of my dying before him, 
the gentleman whom I succeeded must have lost the vested in- 
terest which he had stipulated to retain. I had the honor of 
an interview with Earl Spencer on the subject, and he, in the 
most handsome manner, gave directions that the commission 
should issue as originally intended ; adding, that the matter 
having received the royal assent, he regarded only as a claim 
of justice what he would have willingly done as an act of favor. 
I never saw Mr. Fox on this, or on any other occasion, and never 
made any application to him, conceiving that in doing so I might 
have been supposed to express political opinions contrary to those 
which I had always professed. In his private capacity, there is 
no man to whom I would have been more proud to owe an 
obligation, had I been so distinguished. 

By this arrangement I obtained the survivorship of an office, 
the emoluments of which were fully adequate to my wishes ; and 
as the law respecting the mode of providing for superannuated 
officers was, about five or six years after, altered from that which 
admitted the arrangement of assistant and successor, my colleague 
very handsomely took the opportunity of the alteration to accept 
of the retiring annuity provided in such cases, and admitted me 
to the full benefit of the office. 

But although the certainty of succeeding to a considerable in- 
come, at the time I obtained it, seemed to assure me of a quiet 
harbor in my old age, I did not escape my share of inconvenience 
from the contrary tides and currents by which we are so often 
encountered in our journey through life. Indeed, the publication 
of my next poetical attempt was prematurely accelerated, from 
one of those unpleasant accidents which can neither be foreseen 
nor avoided. 



IO INTRODUCTION. 



I had formed the prudent resolution to endeavor to bestow a 
little more labor than I had yet done on my productions, and 
to be in no hurry again to announce myself as a candidate for 
literary fame. Accordingly, particular passages of a poem, which 
was finally called " Marmion, 11 were labored with a good deal of 
care, by one by whom much care was seldom bestowed. Whether 
the work was worth the labor or not, I am no competent judge ; 
but I may be permitted to say, that the period of its composition 
was a very happy one in my life ; so much so, that I remember 
with pleasure, at this moment, some of the spots in which par- 
ticular passages were composed. It is probably owing to this 
that the Introductions to the several Cantos assumed the form 
of familiar epistles to my intimate friends, in which I alluded 
perhaps more than was necessary or graceful to my domestic 
occupations and amusements — a loquacity which may be excused 
by those who remember that I was still young, light-headed, and 
happy, and that " out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketh." 

The misfortunes of a near relation and friend, which happened 
at this time, led me to alter my prudent determination, which 
had been to use great precaution in sending this poem into the 
world, and made it convenient at least, if not absolutely neces- 
sary, to hasten its publication. The publishers of "The Lay 
of the Last Minstrel, 1 ' emboldened by the success of that poem, 
willingly offered a thousand pounds for " Marmion.'" The tran- 
saction being no secret, afforded Lord Byron, who was then at 
general war with all who blacked paper, an apology for including 
me in his satire entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." 1 

1 [" Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan, 
The golden-crested haughty Marmion, 
Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, 
Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight, 
The gibbet or the field prepared to grace ; 



MARMION. 1 1 



I never could conceive how an arrangement between an author and 
his publishers, if satisfactory to the persons concerned, could afford 
matter of censure to any third party. I had taken no unusual or 
ungenerous means of enhancing the value of my merchandise ; 
I had never higgled a moment about the bargain, but accepted 
at once what I considered the handsome offer of my publishers. 
These gentlemen, at least, were not of opinion that they had 
been taken advantage of in the transaction, which indeed was 
one of their own framing ; on the contrary, the sale of the poem 
was so far beyond their expectation as to induce them to supply 
the author's cellars with what is always an acceptable present to 
a young Scottish house-keeper, namely, a hogshead of excellent 
claret. 

The poem was finished in too much haste to allow me an 
opportunity of softening down, if not removing, some of its most 
prominent defects. The nature of Marmion's guilt, although 
similar instances were found, and might be quoted as existing 
in feudal times, was, nevertheless, not sufficiently peculiar to be 
indicative of the character of the period — forgery being the 
crime of a commercial, rather than a proud and warlike age» 

A mighty mixture of the great and base. 

And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, 

On public taste to foist thy stale romance, 

Though Murray with his Miller may combine 

To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? 

No ! when the sons of song descend to trade, 

Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. 

Let such forego the poet's sacred name. 

Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame ; 

Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain ; 

And sadly gaze on gold they cannot gain ! 

Such be their meed, such still the just reward 

Of prostituted muse and hireling bard ! 

For this we spurn Apollo's venal son, 

And bid a long ' Good-night to Marmion.' " 

BYRON'S Works, vol. vii., p. 235-6.] 



12 INTRODUCTION-. 



This gross defect ought to have been remedied or palliated. 
Yet I suffered the tree to lie as it had fallen. I remember my 
friend Dr. Leyden, then in the East, wrote me a furious re- 
monstrance on the subject. I have, nevertheless, always been 
of opinion that corrections, however, in themselves judicious, 
have a bad effect — after publication. An author is never so 
decidedly condemned as on his own confession, and may long 
find apologists and partisans until he gives up his own cause. 
I was not, therefore, inclined to afford matter for censure out 
of my own admissions ; and, by good fortune, the novelty of the 
subject, and, if I may say so, some force and vivacity of descrip- 
tion, were allowed to atone for many imperfections. Thus, the 
second experiment on the public patience, generally the most 
perilous, — for the public are then most apt to judge with rigor 
what, in the first instance, they had received, perhaps, with im- 
prudent generosity, — was in my case decidedly successful. I had 
the good fortune to pass this ordeal favorably, and the return 
of sales before me makes the copies amount to thirty-six thou- 
sand printed between 1808 and 1825, besides a considerable sale 
since that period. I shall here pause upon the subject of : ' Mar- 
mion," and, in a few prefatory words to "The Lady of the Lake," 
the last poem of mine which obtained eminent success, I will con- 
tinue the task which I have imposed on myself respecting the origin 
of my productions. 

Abbotsford, April, 1830. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 1 



It is hardly to be expected, that an author whom the public 
have honored with some degree of applause, should not be again 
a trespasser on their kindness. Yet the author of "Marmion" 
must be supposed to feel some anxiety concerning its success, 
since he is sensible that he hazards, by this second intrusion, 
any reputation which his first poem may have procured him. 
The present story turns upon the private adventures of a ficti- 
tious character ; but is called a Tale of Flodden Field, because 
the hero's fate is connected with that memorable defeat, and the 
causes which led to it. The design of the author was, if possible, 
to apprize his readers, at the outset, of the date of his story, and 
to prepare them for the manners of the age in which it is laid. 
Any historical narrative, far more an attempt at epic composition, 
exceeded his plan of a romantic tale ; yet he may be permitted to 
hope, from the popularity of " The Lay of the Last Minstrel, 11 that 
an attempt to paint the manners of the feudal times, upon a broader 
scale, and in the course of a more interesting story, will not be un- 
acceptable to the public. 

The poem opens about the commencement of August, and con- 
cludes with the defeat of Flodden, 9th September, 15 13. 

ASHESTIEL, 1808. 

1 [Some alterations in the text of the Introduction to Marmion, and of the 
Poem itself, as well as various additions to the author's notes, will be observed 
in this edition. We have followed Sir Walter Scott's interleaved copy, as 
finally revised by him in the summer of 1831. 

The editor's notes are, as in the preceding volumes of this collection, marked 
by brackets. The preservation of the original MS. of the Poem has enriched 
this volume with numerous various readings, which will be found curious and 
interesting.] 



MARMION: 
& %k\z of gXo&Am "gUlA. 



IN SIX CANTOS. 



Alas ! that Scottish maid should sing 

The combat where her lover fell ! 
That Scottish Bard should wake the string, 

The triumph of our foes to tell ! 

Leyden. 



MARMION. 1 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 

TO WILLIAM STEWART ROSE, *:S<,). 



Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

November's sky is chill and drear, 
November's leaf is red and sear : 
Late, gazing down the steepy linn, 
That hems our little garden in, 
Low in its dark and narrow glen, 
You scarce the rivulet might ken, 
So thick the tangled greenwood grew, 
So feeble trill'd the streamlet through : 
Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen 
Through bush and brier, no longer green, 
An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, 
Brawls over rock and wild cascade, 
And, foaming brown with double speed, 
Hurries its waters to the Tweed. 

No longer Autumn's glowing red 
Upon our Forest hills is shed ; 2 
No more, beneath the evening beam, 
Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam ; 
Away hath pass'd the heather-bell 
That bloom'd so rich on Needpath-fell ; 

1 [Published, in 4to, February, 1808.] 

2 [MS. — " No longer now in glowing red, 

The Ettericke-Forest hills are clad."] 



!g M ARM ION. 



Sallow his brow, and russet bare 
Are now the sister-heights of Yare. 
The sheep, before the pinching heaven, 
To shelter'd dale and down are driven, 
Where yet some faded herbage pines, 
And yet a watery sunbeam shines : 
In meek despondency they eye 
The wither'd sward and wintry sky, 
And far beneath their summer hill, 
Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill : 
The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold, 
And wraps him closer from the cold ; 
His dogs no merry circles wheel, 
But, shivering, follow at his heel ; 
A cowering glance they often cast, 
As deeper moans the gathering blast. 

My imps, though hardy, bold, and wild 
As best befits the mountain child, 
Feel the sad influence of the hour, 
And wail the daisy's vanish'd flower ; 
Their summer gambols tell, and mourn, 
And anxious ask, — Will spring return, 
And birds and lambs again be gay, 
And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray ? 

Yes, prattlers, yes. The daisy's flower 
Again shall paint your summer bower ; 
Again the hawthorn shall supply 
The garlands you delight to tie ; 
The lambs upon the lea shall bound, 
The wild birds carol to the round, 
And while you frolic light as they, 
Too short shall seem the summer day. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. lg 

To mute and to material things 
New life revolving summer brings ; * 
The genial call dead Nature hears, 
And in her glory reappears. 
But oh ! my Country's wintry state 
What second spring shall renovate? 
What powerful call shall bid arise 
The buried warlike and the wise ; 2 
The mind that thought for Britain's weal, 
The hand that grasp'd the victor steel ? 
The vernal sun new life bestows 
Even on the meanest flower that blows ; 
But vainly, vainly may he shine, 
Where glory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine ; 
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, 
That shrouds, O Pitt, thy hallow 'd tomb ! 

Deep graved in every British heart, 
O never let those names depart ! 3 
Say to your sons, — Lo, here his grave, 
Who victor died on Gadite wave ; 4 
To him, as to the burning levin, 
Short, bright, resistless course was given. 

1 [" The ' chance and change ' of nature — the vicissitudes which are observa- 
ble in the moral as well as the physical part of the creation — have given 
occasion to more exquisite poetry than any other general subject. The Author 
had before made ample use of the sentiments suggested by these topics; yet he 
is not satisfied, but begins again with the same in his first introduction. The 
lines are certainly pleasing ; but they fall, in our estimation, far below that beau- 
tiful simile of the Tweed which he has introduced into his former poem. The 
At, at, rat /uaAanat of Moschus is, however, worked up again to some advan- 
tage in the following passage : — 'To mute,' &c." — Monthly Rev., May, 1808.] 

2 [MS. — " What call awakens from the dead 

The hero's heart, the patriot's head? "] 

3 [MS. — " Deep in each British bosom wrote, 

O never be those names forgot ! "] 

4 [Nelson.] 



2Q MARMION. 



Where'er his country's foes were found, 

Was heard the fated thunder's sound, 

Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, 

Roll'd, blazed, destroy'd, • — ■ and was no more. 

Nor mourn ye less his perished worth, 
Who bade the conqueror go forth, 
And launch'd that thunderbolt of war 
On Egypt, Hafnia, 1 Trafalgar; 
Who, born to guide such high emprize, 
For Britain's weal was early wise ; 
Alas ! to whom the Almighty gave, 
For Britain's sins, an early grave ! 
His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, 
A bauble held the pride of power, 
Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf, 
And served his Albion for herself; 
Who, when the frantic crowd amain 
Strain'd at subjection's bursting rein, 9 
O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd, 
The pride, he would not crush, restrain'd, 
Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, 3 
And brought the freeman's arm, to aid the freeman's 
laws. 

Had'st thou but lived, though stripp'd of power, 4 
A watchman on the lonely tower, 

1 Copenhagen. 

2 [MS. — " Tugg'd at subjection's cracking rein."] 

3 [MS. — " Show'd their bold zeal a worthier cause."] 

4 [This paragraph was interpolated on the blank page of the MS. We 
insert the lines as they appear there : — 

O had he lived, though stripp'd of power, 
Like a lone watchman on the tower, 
His thrilling trumpet through the land 
Had warn'd when foemen were at hand, 
As by some beacon's lonely light, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 2 \ 



Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, 

When fraud or danger were at hand ; 

By thee, as by the beacon-light, 

Our pilots had kept course aright ; 

As some proud column, though alone, 

Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne 

Now is the stately column broke, 

The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke, 

The trumpet's silver sound is still, 

The warder silent on the hill ! 

Oh think, how to his latest day, 1 
When Death, just hovering, claim'd his prey, 
With Palinure's unalter'd mood, 
Firm at his dangerous post he stood ; 
Each call for needful rest repell'd, 
With dying hand the rudder held, 
Till, in his fall, with fateful sway, 
The steerage of the realm gave way ! 
Then, while on Britain's thousand plains, 
One unpolluted church remains, 
Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around 
The bloody tocsin's maddening sound, 
But still, upon the hallow'd day, 2 

By thee our course had steer'd aright; 

Our steady course had steer'd aright; 

Our pilots kept their course aright; 

His single mind, unbent by fate, 

Had propp'd his country's tottering weight; 

( tal1 ) 
As some I > column left alone, 

( vast ) 
\ Had propp'd our tottering state and throne, 
> His strength had propp'd our tottering throne. 
The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke, 
The warder fallen, the column broke."] 

1 [MS. — " Yet think how to his latest day."] 
- [MS. — " Rut still upon the holy day."] 



22 M ARM/0 IV. 

Convoke the swains to praise and pray ; 
While faith and civil peace are dear, 
Grace this cold marble with a tear, — 
He, who preserved them, Pitt, lies here ! 

Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, 
Because his rival slumbers nigh ; 
Nor be thy requiescat dumb, 
Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb, 1 
For talents mourn, untimely lost, 
When best employ'd, and wanted most ; 
Mourn genius high, and lore profound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound ; 
And all the reasoning powers divine, 
To penetrate, resolve, combine ; 
And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, 
They sleep with him who sleeps below : 
And, if thou mourn'st they eould not save 
From error him who owns this grave, 
Be every harsher thought suppress'd, 
And sacred be the last long rest. 
Here, where the end of earthly things 
Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings ; 
Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, 
Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung ; 
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong 
The distant notes of holy song, 
As if some angel spoke agen, 

1 [In place of the next twelve lines, the original MS. has the following 

" If genius high, and judgment sound, 
And wit that loved to play, not wound, 
And all the reasoning powers divine, 
To penetrate, resolve, combine, 
Could save one mortal of the herd 
From error— Fox had never err'd."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 23 

" All peace on earth, good-will to men " ; 
If ever from an English heart, 
O, here let prejudice depart, 
And, partial feeling cast aside, 1 
Record, that Fox a Briton died ! 
When Europe crouch'd to France's yoke, 
And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, 
And the firm Russian's purpose brave, 
Was barter'd by a timorous slave, 
Even then dishonor's peace he spurn'd, 
The sullied olive-branch return'd, 
Stood for his country's glory fast, 
And nail'd her colors to the mast ! 
Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave 
A portion in this honor'd grave, 
And ne'er held marble in its trust 
Of two such wondrous men the dust. 2 

With more than mortal powers endow'd, 
How high they soar'd above the crowd ! 
Theirs was no common party race, 3 
Jostling by dark intrigue for place ; 
Like fabled Gods, their mighty war 

1 [MS. — " And party passion doff' 4 aside."] 

2 [" The first epistolary effusion, containing a threnody on Nelson, Pitt, and 
Fox, exhibits a remarkable failure. We are unwilling to quarrel with a poet on 
the score of politics; but the manner in which he has chosen to praise the last 
of these great men is more likely, we conceive, to give offence to his admirers, 
than the most direct censure. The only deed for which he is praised is for 
having broken off the negotiation for peace ; and for this act of firmness, it is 
added, Heaven rewarded him with a share in the honored grave of Pitt ! It is 
then said that his errors should be forgotten, and that he died a Briton — a 
pretty plain insinuation that, in the Author's opinion, he did not live one ; and 
just such an encomium as he himself pronounces over the grave of his villain 
hero, Marmion." — JEFFREY.] 

3 [MS. — " Theirs was no common courtier race."] 



24 



MARMION. 



Shook realms and nations in its jar ; 

Beneath each banner proud to stand, 

Look'd up the noblest of the land, 

Till through the British world were known 

The names of Pitt and Fox alone. 

Spells of such force no wizard grave 

E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, 

Though his could drain the ocean dry, 

And force the planets from the sky. 1 

These spells are spent, and spent with these, 

The wine of life is on the lees. 

Genius and taste, and talent gone, 

For ever tomb'd beneath the stone, 

Where — taming thought to human pride ! — 

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. 2 

Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 

'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; 

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound, 

And Fox's shall the notes rebound. 



1 [MS. — " And force the pale moon from the sky."] 

2 [" Reader! remember when thou wert a lad, 

Then Pitt was all ; or, if not all, so much, 
His very rival almost deem'd him such. 
We, we have seen the intellectual race 
Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face ; 
Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea 
Of eloquence between, which fiow'd all free, 
As the deep billows of the JEgean roar 
Betwixt the Hellenic and the Phrygian shore. 
But where are they — the rivals ! — a few feet 
Of sullen earth divide each winding-sheet. 
How peaceful and how powerful is the grave 
Which hushes all ! a calm unstormy wave 
Which oversweeps the world. The theme is old 
Of ' dust to dust ' ; but half its tale untold ; 
Time tempers not its terrors." 

Byron's Age of Bronze^ 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 2 $ 

The solemn echo seems to cry, — 
" Here let their discord with them die. 
Speak not for those a separate doom, 
Whom Fate made Brothers in the tomb ; 
But search the land of living men, 
Where wilt thou find their like agen?" 

Rest, ardent Spirits ! till the cries 
Of dying nature bid you rise ; 
Not even your Britain's groans can pierce 
The leaden silence of your hearse ; 
Then, O, how impotent and vain 
This grateful tributary strain ! 
Though not unmark'd from northern clime, 
Ye heard the Border Minstrel's rhyme : 
His Gothic harp has o'er you rung; 
The Bard you deign'd to praise, your deathless names 
has sung. 

Stay yet, illusion, stay a while, 
My wilder'd fancy still beguile ! 
From this high theme how can I part, 
Ere half unloaded is my heart ! 
For all the tears e'er sorrow drew, 
And all the raptures fancy knew, 
And all the keener rush of blood, 
That throbs through bard in bard-like mood, 
Were here a tribute mean and low, 
Though all their mingled streams could flow — 
Woe, wonder, and sensation high, 
In one spring-tide of ecstasy ! — 
It will not be — it may not last — 
The vision of enchantment's past : 
Like frostwork in the morning ray, 



2 6 MARMION. 



The fancied fabric melts away ; x 
Each Gothic arch, memorial-stone, 
And long, dim, lofty aisle, are gone ; 
And, lingering last, deception dear, 
The choir's high sounds die on my ear. 
Now slow return the lonely down, 
The silent pastures bleak and brown, 
The farm begirt with copsewood wild, 
The gambols of each frolic child, 
Mixing their shrill cries with the tone 
Of Tweed's dark waters rushinsr on. 



•s 



Prompt on unequal tasks to run. 
Thus Nature disciplines her son : 
Meeter, she says, for me to stray, 
And waste the solitary day, 
In plucking from yon fen the reed, 
And watch it floating down the Tweed ; 
Or idly list the shrilling lay, 
With which the milkmaid cheers her way, 
Marking its cadence rise and fail, 
As from the field, beneath her pail, 
She trips it down the uneven dale : 
Meeter for me, by yonder cairn, 
The ancient shepherd's tale to learn ; 
Though oft he stop in rustic fear, 2 
Lest his old legends tire the ear 



1 [" If but a beam of sober reason play, 

Lo ! Fancy's fairy frostwork melts away." 

Roger's Pleasures of Memory^ 
- [MS. — ■ " Though oft he stops to wonder still 
That his old legends have the skill 
To win so well the attentive ear, 
Perchance to draw the sigh or tear."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 



27 



Of one, who, in his simple mind, 

May boast of book-learn'd taste refined. 

But thou, my friend, cans't fitly tell, 
(For few have read romance so well,) 
How still the legendary lay 
O'er poet's bosom holds its sway ; 
How on the ancient minstrel strain 
Time lays his palsied hand in vain ; 
And how our hearts at doughty deeds, 
By warriors wrought in steely weeds, 
Still throb for fear and pity's sake ; 
xA.s when the Champion of the Lake 
Enters Morgana's fated house, 
Or in the Chapel Perilous, 
Despising spells and demons' force, 
Holds converse with the unburied corse ; l 
Or when, Dame Ganore's grace to move, 
(Alas, that lawless was their love !) 
He sought proud Tarquin in his den, 
And freed full sixty knights ; or when, 
A sinful man, and unconfess'd, 
He took the Sangreal's holy quest, 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. 2 

The mightiest chiefs of British song 
Scorn'd not such legends to prolong : 
They gleam through Spenser's elfin dream, 
And mix in Milton's heavenly theme ; 
And Dryden, in immortal strain, 

1 See Appendix, Note A. 

2 See Appendix, Note B. 



28 M ARM ION. 



Had raised the Table Round again. 1 
But that a ribald King and Court 
Bade him toil on, to make them sport ; 
Demanded for their niggard pay, 
Fit for their souls, a looser lay ; 
Licentious satire, song, and play ; 9 - 
The world defrauded of the high design, 3 

1 Dryden's melancholy account of his projected Epic Poem, blasted by the 
selfish and sordid parsimony of his patrons, is contained in an " Essay on Sat- 
ire," addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and prefixed to the Translation of Juve- 
nal. After mentioning a plan of supplying machinery from the guardian angels 
of kingdoms, mentioned in the Book of Daniel, he adds : — ■ 

" Thus, my Lord, I have, as briefly as I could, given your lordship, and by 
you the world, a rude draught of what I have been long laboring in my imagina- 
tion, and what I had intended to have put in practice (though far unable for the 
attempt of such a poem) ; and to have left the stage, to which my genius never 
much inclined me, for a work which would have taken up my life in the per- 
formance of it. This, too, I had intended chiefly for the honor of my native 
country, to which a poet is particularly obliged. Of two subjects, both relating 
to it, I was doubtful whether I should choose that of King Arthur conquering 
the Saxons, which, being farther distant in time, gives the greater scope to my 
invention ; or that of Edward the Black Prince, in subduing Spain, and restor- 
ing it to the lawful prince, though a great tyrant, Don Pedro the cruel; which, 
for the compass of time, including only the expedition of one year, for the 
greatness of the action, and its answerable event, for the magnanimity of the 
English hero, opposed to the ingratitude of the person whom he restored, and 
for the many beautiful episodes which I had interwoven with the principal 
design, together with the characters of the chiefest English persons (wherein, 
after Virgil and Spenser, I would have taken occasion to represent my living 
friends and patrons of the noblest families, and also shadowed the events of 
future ages in the succession of our imperial line) — with these helps, and 
those of the machines which I have mentioned, I might perhaps have done as 
well as some of my predecessors, or at least chalked out a way for others to 
amend my errors in a like design ; but being encouraged only with fair words 
by King Charles II., my little salary ill paid, and no prospect of a future subsist- 
ence, I was then discouraged in the beginning of my attempt ; and now age has 
overtaken me, and want, a more insufferable evil, through the change of the 
times, has wholly disabled me." 

2 [MS. — " Licentious song, lampoon, and play."] 

3 [MS. — " The world defrauded of the bold design. 

And quench'd the heroic 1 _ , , , ,, , e . ,. 

H I fire, and marr d the lofty line. 

Profaned the heavenly J 

Again, Profaned his God-given strength, and marr'd his lofty line."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIRST. 



29 



Profaned the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty 
line. 

Warm'd by such names, well may we then, 
Though dwindled sons of little men, 
Essay to break a feeble lance 
In the fair fields of old romance ; 
Or seek the moated castle's cell, 
Where long through talisman and spell, 
While tyrants ruled, and damsels wept, 
Thy Genius, Chivalry, hath slept : 
There sound the harpings of the North, 
Till he awake and sally forth, 
On venturous quest to prick again, 
In all his arms, with all his train, 1 
Shield, lance, and brand, and plume, and scarf, 
Fay, giant, dragon, squire, and dwarf, 
And wizard with his wand of might, 
And errant maid on palfrey white. 
Around the Genius weave their spells, 
Pure Love, who scarce his passion tells ; 
Mystery, half veil'd and half reveal'd ; 
And Honor, with his spotless shield ; 
Attention, with hVd eye ; and Fear, 
That loves the tale she shrinks to hear ; 

1 [In the MS. the rest of the passage stands as follows : — 

charms, 



spells, 



" Around him wait with all their j 

t, T . . , ( Virtue only warms; 

Pure Love which ■ , • 

( scarce his passion tells 

Mystery, half seen and half conceal'd; 

And Honor, with unspotted shield; 

Attention, with fix'd eye; and Fear, 

That loves the tale she shrinks to hear; 

And gentle Courtesy; and Faith, 

And Valor that despises death."] 



3Q 



MARMION. 



And gentle Courtesy ; and Faith, 
Unchanged by sufferings, time, or death ; 
And Valor, lion-mettled lord, 
Leaning upon his own good sword. 
Well has thy fair achievement shown, 
A worthy meed may thus be won ; 
Ytene's 1 oaks — beneath whose shade 
Their theme the merry minstrels made, 
Of Ascapart, and Bevis bold, 2 
And that Red King, 3 who, while of old, 
Through Boldrewood the chase he led, 
By his loved huntsman's arrow bled . — 
Ytene's oaks have heard again 
Renew'd such legendary strain ; 
For thou hast sung, how he of Gaul, 
That Amadis so famed in hall, 
For Oriana, foil'd in fight 
The Necromancer's felon might ; 

1 The new Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called. 

2 [The " History of Bevis of Hampton " is abridged by my friend Mr. George 
Ellis, with that liveliness which extracts amusement even out of the most rude 
and unpromising of our old tales of chivalry. Ascapart, a most important 
personage in the romance, is thus described in an extract : — 

" This geaunt was mighty and strong, 
And full thirty foot was long. 
He was bristled like a sow; 
A foot he had between each brow ; 
His lips were great, and hung aside ; 
His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide; 
Lothly he was to look on than, 
And liker a devil than a man. 
His staff was a young oak, 
Hard and heavy was his stroke."] 

Specimens of Metrical Romances, vol. ii. p. 136. 

I am happy to say that the memory of Sir Bevis is still fragrant in his town 
of Southampton ; the gate of which is sentineled by the effigies of that doughty 
knight-errant and his gigantic associate. 

3 William Rufus. 



INTRODUCTION- TO CANTO FIRST. 



31 



And well in modern verse hast wove 
Partenopex's mystic love ; l 
Hear, then, attentive to my lay, 
A knightly tale of Albion's elder day. 



1 {Pai-tenopex de Blois, a poem, by W. S. Rose, Esq., was published in 
1808.— ED.] 



©ant* $first 

THE CASTLE. 

I. 

Day set on Norham's castled steep, 1 
And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 

And Cheviot's mountains lone : 
The battled towers, the donjon keep, 2 
The loophole grates, where captives weep, 
The flanking walls that round it sweep, 

In yellow lustre shone. 3 
The warriors on the turrets high, 
Moving athwart the evening sky, 4 

1 See Appendix, Note C. 

* 2 It is perhaps unnecessary to remind my readers that the donjon, in its 
proper signification, means the strongest part of a feudal castle ; a high square 
tower, with walls of tremendous thickness, situated in the centre of the other 
buildings, from which, however, it was usually detached. Here, in case of 
the outward defences being gained, the garrison retreated to make their last 
stand. The donjon contained the great hall, and principal rooms of state for 
solemn occasions, and also the prison of the fortress ; from which last circum- 
stance we derive the modern and restricted use of the word dungeon. Ducange 
{voce Dunjo) conjectures plausibly, that the name is derived from these keeps 
being usually built upon a hill, which in Celtic is called DUN. Borlase sup- 
poses the word came from the darkness of the apartments in these towers, 
which were thence figuratively called Dungeons ; thus deriving the ancient 
word from the modern application of it. 

3 [In the MS. the first line has " hoary keep" ; the fourth "donjon steep" ; 
the seventh " ruddy lustre."] 

4 [MS. — " Eastern sky."] 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 33 

Seem'd forms of giant height : 
Their armor, as it caught the rays, 
Flash' d back again the western blaze, 1 

In lines of dazzling light. 

II. 

Saint George's banner, broad and gay, 
Now faded, as the fading ray 

Less bright, and less, was flung ; 
The evening gale had scarce the power 
To wave it on the Donjon Tower, 

So heavily it hung. 
The scouts had parted on their search, 

The Castle gates were barr'd ; 
Above the gloomy portal arch, 
Timing his footsteps to a march, 

The Warder kept his guard ; 
Low humming, as he paced along, 
Some ancient Border gathering song. 

III. 

A distant trampling sound he hears ; 
He looks abroad, and soon appears, 
O'er Horncliff-hill a plump 2 of spears, 

Beneath a pennon gay ; 
A horseman, darting from the crowd, 
Like lightning from a summer cloud, 

1 [MS. — " Evening blaze."] 

2 This word properly applies to a flight of water-fowl ; but is applied, by 
analogy, to a body of horse. 

" There is a knight of the North Country, 
Which leads a lusty plump of spears." 

Flodden Field. 



34 MARMION. [canto I. 

Spurs on his mettled courser proud, 

Before the dark array. 
Beneath the sable palisade, 
That closed the Castle barricade, 

His buglehorn he blew ; 
The warder hasted from the wall, 
And warn'd the Captain in the hall, 

For well the blast he knew ; 
And joyfully that knight did call, 
To sewer, squire, and seneschal. 

IV. 

" Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, 

Bring pasties of the doe, 
And quickly make the entrance free 
And bid my heralds ready be, 
And every minstrel sound his glee, 

And all our trumpets blow ; 
And, from the platform, spare ye not 
To fire a noble salvo-shot ; l 

Lord Marmion waits below ! " 
Then to the Castle's lower ward 

Sped forty yeomen tall, 
The iron-studded gates unbarr'd, 
Raised the portcullis' ponderous guard, 
The lofty palisade unsparr'd, 

And let the drawbridge fall. 

V. 

Along the bridge Lord Marmion rode, 
Proudly his red-roan charger trode, 
His helm hung at the saddlebow ; 

1 [MS. — "A welcome shot."] 




His bugle-horn he blew." 

Canto i. 3. 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 35 

Well by his visage you might know 
He was a stalworth knight, and keen, 
And had in many a battle been ; 
The scar on his brown cheek reveal'd * 
A token true of Bosworth field ; 
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire, 
Show'd spirit proud, and prompt to ire ; 
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek 
Did deep design and counsel speak. 
His forehead, by his casque worn bare, 
His thick mustache, and curly hair, 
Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, 

But more through toil than age ; 
His square-turn'd joints, and strength of limb, 
Show'd him no carpet knight so trim, 
But in close fight a champion grim, 

In camps a leader sage. 2 

VI. 

Well was he arm'd from head to heel, 
In mail and plate of Milan steel ; 3 

1 [MS. — " On his brown cheek an azure scar 

Bore token true of Bosworth war."] 

2 [" Marmion is to Deloraine what Tom Jones is to Joseph Andrews ; the 
varnish of higher breeding nowhere diminishes the prominence of the features; 
and the minion of a king is as light and sinewy a cavalier as the Borderer — 
rather less ferocious — more wicked, not less fit for the hero of a ballad, and 
much more so for the hero of a regular poem." — GEORGE ELLIS.] 

3 The artists of Milan were famous in the middle ages for their skill in ar- 
mory, as appears from the following passage, in which Froissart gives an 
account of the preparations made by Henry, Earl of Hereford, afterwards 
Henry IV., and Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marischal, for their proposed 
combat in the lists of Coventry : — " These two lords made ample provision of 
ah things necessary for the combat ; and the Earl of Derby sent off messengers 
to Lombardy, to have armor from Sir Galeas, Duke of Milan. The Duke 
complied with joy, and gave the knight, called Sir Francis, who had brought 
the message, the choice of all his armor for the Earl of Derby. When he 



36 MARMION. [canto i. 

But his strong helm, of mighty cost, 
Was all with burnish'd gold emboss'd \ 
Amid the plumage of the crest, 
A falcon hover'd on her nest, 
With wings outspread, and forward breast ; 
E'en such a falcon, on his shield, 
Soar'd sable in an azure field : 
The golden legend bore aright, 
)o tfynks at me, to beat!] is big jit. 1 



had selected what he wished for in plaited and mail armor, the Lord of Milan, 
out of his abundant love for the Earl, ordered four of the best armorers in 
Milan to accompany the knight to England, that the Earl of Derby might be 
more completely armed." — JOHNES' Froissart, vol. iv. p. 597. 

1 The crest and motto of Marmion are borrowed from the following story: 
Sir David de Lindsay, first Earl of Crauford, was, among other gentlemen of 
quality, attended, during a visit to London, in 1390, by Sir William Dalzell, who 
was, according to my authority, Bower, not only excelling in wisdom, but also 
of a lively wit. Chancing to be at the court, he there saw Sir Piers Courtenay, 
an English knight, famous for skill in tilting, and for the beauty of his person, 
parading the palace, arrayed in a new mantle, bearing for device an embroid- 
ered falcon, with this rhyme : — 

" I bear a falcon, fairest of flight, 
Whoso pinches at her, his death is dight* 
In graith." f 
The Scottish knight, being a wag, appeared next day in a dress exactly simi- 
lar to that of Courtenay, but bearing a magpie instead of the falcon, with a 
motto ingeniously contrived to rhyme to the vaunting inscription of Sir Piers : — 
" I bear a pie picking at a peice, 
Whoso picks at her, I shall pick at his nese, J 
In faith." 

This affront could only be expiated by a just with sharp lances. In the 
course, Dalzell left his helmet unlaced, so that it gave way at the touch of his 
antagonist's lance, and he thus avoided the shock of the encounter. This hap- 
pened twice : in the third encounter, the handsome Courtenay lost two of his 
front teeth. As the Englishman complained bitterly of Dalzell's fraud in not 
fastening his helmet, the Scottishman agreed to run six courses more, each 
champion staking in the hand of the King two hundred pounds, to be forfeited, 
if, on entering the lists, any unequal advantage should be detected. This being 

* Prepared. f Armor. % Nose. 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 37 

Blue was the charger's broider'd rein ; 
Blue ribbons deck'd his arching mane ; 
The knightly housing's ample fold 
Was velvet blue, and trapp'd with gold. 

VII. 

Behind him rode two gallant squires, 
Of noble name, and knightly sires ; 
They burn'd the gilded spurs to claim ; 
For well could each a warhorse tame, 
Could draw the bow, the sword could sway, 
And lightly bear the ring away ; 
Nor less with courteous precepts stored, 
Could dance in hall, and carve at board, 
And frame love-ditties passing rare, 
And sing them to a lady fair. 

VIII. 

Four men-at-arms came at their backs, 

With halbert, bill, and battle-axe : 

They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong 1 

And led his sumpter-mules along, 

And ambling palfrey, when at need 

Him listed ease his battle-steed. 

The last and trustiest of the four, 

agreed to, the wily Scot demanded that Sir Piers, in addition to the loss of his 
teeth, should consent to the extinction of one of his eyes, he himself having 
lost an eye in the fight of Otterburn. As Courtenay demurred to this equali- 
zation of optical powers, Dalzell demanded the forfeit; which, after much 
altercation, the King appointed to be paid to him, saying, he surpassed the 
English both in wit and valor. This must appear to the reader a singular 
specimen of the humor of that time. I suspect the Jockey Club would have 
given a different decision from Henry IV. 

1 [MS. — " One bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 

Tivo led his sumpter-mules along, 

The third his palfrey, when at need."] 



38 MARMION. [canto i. 

On high his forky pennon bore ; 
Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 
Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, 
Where, blazon'd sable, as before, 
The towering falcon seem'd to soar. 
Last, twenty yeomen, two and two, 
In hosen black, and jerkins blue, 
With falcons broider'd on each breast, 
Attended on their lord's behest. 
Each, chosen for an archer good, 
Knew hunting-craft by lake or wood ; 
Each one a six-foot bow could bend, 
And far a cloth-yard shaft could send ■ 
Each held a boar-spear tough and strong, 
And at their belts their quivers rung. 
Their dusty palfreys, and array, 
Show'd they had march'd a weary way. 

IX. 

'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 
How fairly arm'd, and order'd how, 

The soldiers of the guard, 
With musket, pike, and morion, 
To welcome noble Marmion, 

Stood in the Castle-yard ; 
Minstrels and trumpeters were there, 
The gunner held his lintsock yare, 

For welcome-shot prepared : 
Enter'd the train, and such a clang, 1 
As then through all his turrets rang, 

Old Norham never heard. 

1 [MS. — " And when he enter'd, such a clang, 

As through the echoing turrets rang."] 



canto i.] THE CASTLE. 39 

X. 

The guards their morrice pikes advanced, 

The trumpets flourish'd brave, 
The cannon from the ramparts glanced, 

And thundering welcome gave. 
A blithe salute, in martial sort, 

The minstrels well might sound, 
For, as Lord Marmion cross'd the court, 

He scatter'd angels round. 
" Welcome to Norham, Marmion ! 

Stout heart, and open hand ! 
Well dost thou brook thy gallant roan, 

Thou flower of English land ! " 

XL 

Two pursuivants, whom tabarts deck, 
With silver scutcheon round their neck, 

Stood on the steps of stone, 
By which you reach the donjon gate, 
And there, with herald pomp and state, 

They hail'd Lord Marmion : l 
They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Luttervvard, and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tamworth tower and town ; 2 
And he, their courtesy to requite, 
Gave them a chain of twelve marks' weight, 

1 [" The most picturesque of all poets, Homer, is frequently minute, to the ut- 
most degree, in the description of the dresses and accoutrements of his personages. 
These particulars, often inconsiderable in themselves, have the effect of giving 
truth and identity to the picture, and assist the mind in realizing the scenes, in 
a degree which no general description could suggest ; nor could we so com- 
pletely enter the Castle with Lord Marmion, were any circumstances of the 
description omitted." — British Critic?^ 

2 [See Appendix, Note D.l 



40 MARMION. [canto i. 

All as he lighted down. 
" Now, largesse, largesse, 1 Lord Marmion, 

Knight of the crest of gold ! 
A blazon'd shield, in battle won, 

Ne'er guarded heart so bold." 

XII. 

They marshal? d him to the Castle-hall, 

Where the guests stood all aside, 
And loudly flourish' d the trumpet-call, 

And the heralds loudly cried, 
— " Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, 

With the crest and helm of gold ! 
Full well we know the trophies won 

In the lists at Cottiswoid : 
There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 

'Gainst Marmion's force to stand ; 
To him he lost his lady-love, 

And to the King his land. 

1 This was the cry with which heralds and pursuivants were wont to acknowl- 
edge the bounty received from the knights. Stewart of Lorn distinguishes a 
ballad in which he satirizes the narrowness of James V. and his courtiers, by 
the ironical burden — 

" Lerges, lerges, lerges, hay, 
Lerges of this new-yeir day. 
First lerges of the King, my chief, 
Quhilk come als quiet as a theif, 

And in my hand slid schillings tway,* 
To put his lergnes to the preif,f 
For lerges of this new-yeir day." 
The heralds, like the minstrels, were a race allowed to have great claims 
upon the liberality of the knights, of whose feats they kept a record, and pro- 
claimed them aloud, as in the text, upon suitable occasions. 

At Berwick, Norham, and other Border fortresses of importance, pursuivants 
usually resided, whose inviolable character rendered them the only persons 
that could, with perfect assurance of safety, be sent on necessary embassies into 
Scotland. This is alluded to in stanza xxi. p. 62. 

* Two. t Proof. 



canto i.] THE CASTLE. 41 

Ourselves beheld the listed field, 

A sight both sad and fair ; 
We saw Lord Marmion pierce his shield, 1 

And saw his saddle bare ; 
We saw the victor win the crest, 

He wears with worthy pride ; 
And on the gibbet-tree, reversed, 

His foeman's scutcheon tied. 
Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight ! 

Room, room, ye gentles gay, 
For him who conquer'd in the right, 

Marmion of Fontenaye ! " 

XIII. 

Then stepp'd to meet that noble Lord, 

Sir Hugh the Heron bold, 
Baron of Twisell, and of Ford, 

And Captain of the Hold, 2 
He led Lord Marmion to the deas, 

Raised o'er the pavement high, 
And placed him in the upper place — 

They feasted full and high : 
The whiles a Northern harper rude 
Chanted a rhyme of deadly feud, 

" How the fierce Thirwalls, and Ridleys all, 

1 [MS. — " Cleave his shield."] 

2 Were accuracy of any consequence in a fictitious narrative, this castellan's 
name ought to have been William ; for William Heron of Ford was husband 
to the famous Lady Ford, whose siren charms are said to have cost our James 
IV. so dear. Moreover, the said William Heron was, at the time supposed, a 
prisoner in Scotland, being surrendered by Henry VIII., on account of his 
share in the slaughter of Sir Robert Ker of Cessford. His wife, represented 
in the text as residing at the Court of Scotland, was, in fact, living in her own 
Castle at Ford. — See Sir Richard Heron's curious Genealogy of the Heron 
Family. 



42 MARMION. [canto I. 

Stout Willimondswick, 
And Hard-riding Dick, 
And Hughie of Haw don, and Will d* the Wall, 
Have set on Sir Albany Featherstonhaugh, 
And take?i his life at the Deadmari 's-shaw." l 
Scantly Lord Marmion's ear could brook 

The harper's barbarous lay ; 
Yet much he praised the pains he took, 
And well those pains did pay : 
For lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, 
By knight should ne'er be heard in vain. 



XIV. 

"Now, good Lord Marmion," Heron says, 

" Of your fair courtesy, 
I pray you bide some little space 

In this poor tower with me. 
Here may you keep your arms from rust, 

May breathe your war-horse well ; 
Seldom hath pass'd a week but giust 

Or feat of arms befell : 
The Scots can rein a mettled steel ; 

And love to couch a spear ; — 
Saint George ! a stirring life they lead, 

That have such neighbors near. 
Then stay with us a little space, 

Our northern wars to learn ; 
I pray you, for your lady's grace ! " 

Lord Marmion's brow grew stern. 



1 The rest of this old ballad, given as a note in the former editions of 
Marmion, may be found in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. ii. pp. 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 43 

XV. 

The Captain mark'd his alter'd look, 

And gave a squire the sign ; 
A mighty wassell-bowl he took, 

And crown'd it high with wine. 
" Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion : 

But first I pray thee fair, 1 
Where hast thou left that page of thine, 
That used to serve thy cup of wine, 

Whose beauty was so rare ? 
When last in Raby towers we met, 

The boy I closely eyed, 
And often mark'd his cheeks were wet, 

With tears he fain would hide : 
His was no rugged horse-boy's hand, 
To burnish shield or sharpen brand, 2 

Or saddle battle-steed ; 
But meeter seemed for lady fair, 
To fan her cheek, or curl her hair, 
Or through embroidery, rich and rare, 

The slender silk to lead : 
His skin was fair, his ringlets gold, 

His bosom — when he sigh'd, 
The russet doublet's rugged fold 

Could scarce repel its pride ! 
Say, hast thou given that lovely youth 

To serve in lady's bower? 
Or was the gentle page, in sooth, 

A gentle paramour? " 



1 [MS. — " And let me pray thee fair."] 

2 [MS. — " To rub a shield, or sharp a brand."] 



44 MARMION. [canto i. 

XVI. 
Lord Marmion ill could brook such jest ; 1 

He roll'd his kindling eye, 
With pain his rising wrath suppress'd. 

Yet made a calm reply : 
" That boy thou thought so goodly fair, 

He might not brook the northern air. 
More of his fate if thou wouldst learn, 

I left him sick in Lindisfarn : 2 
Enough of him. — But, Heron, say, 
Why does thy lovely lady gay 
Disdain to grace the hall to-day? 
Or has that dame, so fair and sage, 
Gone on some pious pilgrimage ? " — 
He spoke in covert scorn, for fame 
Whisper'd light tales of Heron's dame. 3 

XVII. 
Unmark'd, at least unreck'd, the taunt, 

Careless the Knight replied, 4 
" No bird, whose feathers gaily flaunt, 

1 [MS. — " Lord Marmion ill such jest could brook, 

He roll'd his kindling eye ; 
Fix'd on the Knight his dark haught look, 

And answer'd stern and high : 
' That page thou did'st so closely eye, 

So fair of hand and skin, 
Is come, I ween, of lineage high, 

And of thy lady's kin. 
That youth, so like a paramour, 

Who wept for shame and pride, 
Was erst, in Wilton's lordly bower, 

Sir Ralph de Wilton's bride.' "] 

2 [See note, canto ii. stanza i. p. 70.] 

3 [MS. — " Whisper'd strange things of Heron's dame."] 

4 [MS. — " The Captain gay replied."] 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 45 

Delights in cage to bide : 
Norham is grim and grated close, 
Hemm'd in by battlement and fosse, 

And many a darksome tower ; 
And better loves my lady bright 
To sit in liberty and light, 

In fair Queen Margaret's bower. 
We hold our greyhound in our hand, 

Our falcon on our glove ; 
But where shall we find leash or band, 

For dame that loves to rove ? 
Let the wild falcon soar her swing, 
She'll stoop when she has tired her wing." — 1 

XVIII. 

" Nay, if with Royal James's bride 

The lovely Lady Heron bide, 

Behold me here a messenger, 

Your tender greetings prompt to bear ; 

For, to the Scottish court address'd, 

I journey at our King's behest, 

And pray you, of your grace, provide 

For me, and mine, a trusty guide. 

I have not ridden in Scotland since 

James back'd the cause of that mock prince, 

Warbeck, that Flemish counterfeit, 

Who on the gibbet paid the cheat. 

Then did I march with Surrey's power, 

What time we razed old Ayton tower." — 2 

1 [MS. — " She'll stoop again when tired her wing."] 

2 The story of Perkin Warbeck, or Richard, Duke of York, is well known. 
In 1496, he was received honorably in Scotland ; and James IV., after confer- 
ring upon him in marriage his own relation, the Lady Catherine Gordon, made 
war on England in behalf of his pretensions. To retaliate an invasion of Eng- 



46 MARMION. [canto I. 

XIX. 
For such-like need, my lord, I trow, 
Norham can find you guides enow ; 
For here be some have prick'd as far, 
On Scottish ground, as to Dunbar ; 
Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale, 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale ; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods, 
And given them light to set their hoods." — ] 

land, Surrey advanced into Berwickshire at the head of considerable forces, 
but retreated, after taking the inconsiderable fortress of Ayton. Ford, in his 
Dramatic Chronicle of Perkin Warbeck, makes the most of this inroad : — 

" Surrey. 
" Are all our braving enemies shrunk back, 
Hid in the fogges of their distemper'd climate, 
Not daring to behold our colours wave 
In spight of this infected ay re? Can they 
Looke on the strength of Cundrestine defac't; 
The glorie of Heydonhall devastated; that 
Of Eddington cast downe ; the pile of Fulden 
Orethrowne : And this, the strongest of their forts, 
Old Ayton Castle, yeelded and demolished, 
And yet not peepe abroad? The Scots are bold, 
Hardie in Battayle, but it seems the cause 
They undertake considered, appeares 
Unjoynted in the frame on't." 

1 The garrisons of the English castles of Wark, Norham, and Berwick, 
were, as may be easily supposed, very troublesome neighbors to Scotland. Sir 
Richard Maitland of Ledington wrote a poem, called " The Blind Baron's 
Comfort " ; when his barony of Blythe, in Lauderdale, was harried by Rowland 
Foster, the English Captain of Wark, with his company, to the number of 300 
men. They spoiled the poetical knight of 5000 sheep, 200 nolt, 30 horses and 
mares ; the whole furniture of his house of Blythe, worth 100 pounds Scots 
(L. 8: 6: 8), and everything else that was portable. "This spoil was com- 
mitted the 16th day of May, 1570 (and the said Sir Richard was threescore 
and fourteen years of age, and grown blind), in time of peace; when nane of 
that country llppened [expected] such a thing." — " The Blind Baron's Comfort" 
consists in a string of puns on the word Blythe, the name of the lands thus 
despoiled. Like John Littlewit, he had " a conceit left him in his misery — a 
miserable conceit." 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 47 

XX. 

" Now, in good sooth," Lord Marmion cried, 

" Were I in warlike wise to ride, 

A better guard I would not lack, 

Than your stout forayers at my back ; 

But as in form of peace I go, 

A friendly messenger, to know, 

Why through all Scotland, near and far, 

Their king is mustering troops for war, 

The sight of plundering Border spears 

Might justify suspicious fears, 

And deadly feud, or thirst of spoil, 

Break out in some unseemly broil : 

A herald were my fitting guide ; 

Or friar, sworn in peace to bide ; 

Or pardoner, or travelling priest, 

Or strolling pilgrim, at the least." 

XXI. 

The Captain mused a little space, 

And pass'd his hand across his face. 

— " Fain would I find the guide you want, 

But ill may spare a pursuivant, 

The only men that safe can ride 

Mine errands on the Scottish side : 

And though a bishop built this fort, 

Few holy brethren here resort ; 

The last line of the text contains a phrase, by which the Borderers jocu- 
larly intimated the burning a house. When the Maxwells, in 1685, burned 
the castle of Lochwood, they said they did so to give the Lady Johnstone 
" light to set her hood." Nor was the phrase inapplicable ; for, in a letter, to 
which I have mislaid the reference, the Earl of Northumberland writes to the 
King and Council, that he dressed himself at midnight, at Warkworth, by the 
blaze of the neighboring villages burned by the Scottish marauders. 



48 M ARM ION. [canto I. 

Even our good chaplain, as I ween, 

Since our last siege, we have not seen : 

The mass he might not sing or say, 

Upon one stinted meal a-day ; 

So, safe he sat in Durham aisle, 

And pray'd for our success the while. 

Our Norham vicar, woe betide, 

Is all too well in case to ride ; 

The priest of Shoreswood 1 — he could rein 

The wildest war-horse in your train : 

But then, no spearman in the hall 

Will sooner swear, or stab, or brawl. 

Friar John of Tillmouth were the man ; 

A blithesome brother at the can, 

A welcome guest in hall and bower, 

He knows each castle, town, and tower, 

In which the wine and ale is good, 

'Twixt Newcastle and Holy-Rood. 

But that good man, as ill befalls, 

Hath seldom left our castle walls, 

Since, on the vigil of Saint Bede, 

In evil hour he cross'd the Tweed, 

To teach Dame Alison her creed. 

1 This churchman seems to have been akin to Welsh, the vicar of St. Thomas 
of Exeter, a leader among the Cornish insurgents in 1549. " This man," says 
Hollinshed, " had many good things in him. He was of no great stature, but 
well set and mightilie compact; he was a very good wrestler; shot well, both 
in the long-bow, and also in the cross-bow ; he handled his hand-gun and peece 
very well ; he was a very good woodman, and a hardie, and such a one as would 
not give his head for the polling, or his beard for the washing. He was a com- 
panion in any exercise of activitie, and of a courteous and gentle behaviour. 
He descended of a good honest parentage, being borne at Peneverin, in Corn- 
wall ; and yet, in this rebellion, an arch-captain, and a principal doer." — Vol. 
iv. p. 958, 4to edition. This model of clerical talents had the misfortune to be 
hanged upon the steeple of his own church* 

* [The reader needs hardly to be reminded of Ivanhoe.] 



canto I.] THE CASTLE. 40 

Old Bughtrig found him with his wife ; 
And John, an enemy to strife, 
Sans frock and hood, fled for his life. 
The jealous churl hath deeply swore, 
That, if again he venture o'er, 
He shall shrieve penitent no more. 
Little he loves such risks, I know ; 
Yet, in your guard, perchance will go." 

XXII. 

Young Selby, at the fair hall-board, 

Carved to his uncle and that lord, 

And reverently took up the word. 

" Kind uncle, woe were we each one, 

If harm should hap to brother John. 

He is a man of mirthful speech, 

Can many a game and gambol teach ; 

Full well at tables can he play, 

And sweep at bowls the stake away. 

None can a lustier carol brawl, 

The needfullest among us all, 

When time hangs heavy in the hall, 

And snow comes thick at Christmas tide, 

And we can neither hunt nor ride. 

A foray on the Scottish side. 

The vow'd revenge of Bughtrig rude, 

May end in worse than loss of hood. 

Let Friar John, in safety, still 

In chimney-corner snore his. fill, 

Roast hissing crabs, or flagons swill : 

Last night, to Norham there came one, 

Will better guide Lord Marmion." — 

"Nephew," quoth Heron, "by my fay, 

Well hast thou spoke ; say forth thy say." — 



50 M ARM/0 AT. [canto I. 

XXIII. 

" Here is a holy Palmer come, 

From Salem first, and last from Rome ; 

One, that hath kiss'd the blessed tomb, 

And visited each holy shrine, 

In Araby and Palestine ; 

On hills of Armenie hath been, 

Where Noah's ark may yet be seen ; 

By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod, 

Which parted at the Prophet's rod ; 

In Sinai's wilderness he saw 

The Mount, where Israel heard the law, 

'Mid thunder-dint and flashing levin, 

And shadows, mists, and darkness, given. 

He shows Saint James's cockle-shell, 

Of fair Montserrat, too, can tell ; 

And of that Grot where Olives nod, 1 
Where, darling of each heart and eye, 
From all the youth of Sicily, 

Saint Rosalie 2 retired to God. 3 



1 [MS. — " And of the Olives' shaded cell."] 

2 [MS. — " Retired to God St. Rosalie."] 

3 " Sante Rosalia was of Palermo, and born of a very noble family, and, when 
very young, abhorred so much the vanities of this world, and avoided the con- 
verse of mankind, resolving to dedicate herself wholly to God Almighty, that 
she, by divine inspiration, forsook her father's house, and never was more heard 
of, till her body was found in that cleft of a rock, on that almost inaccessible 
mountain, where now the chapel is built; and they affirm she was carried up 
there by the hands of angels ; for that place was not formerly so accessible (as 
now it is) in the days of the Saint ; and even now it is a very bad, and steepy, 
and breakneck way. In this frightful place this holy woman lived a great many 
years, feeding only on what she found growing on that barren mountain, and 
creeping into a narrow and dreadful cleft in a rock, which was always dropping 
wet, and was her place of retirement as well as prayer ; having worn out even 
the rock with her knees, in a certain place, which is now open'd on purpose to 



canto i.] THE CASTLE. 5 1 

XXIV. 

" To stout Saint George of Norwich merry, 
Saint Thomas, too, of Canterbury, 
Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede, 
For his sins' pardon hath he pray'd. 
He knows the passes of the North, 
And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth ; 
Little he eats, and long will wake, 
And drinks but of the stream or lake. 
This were a guide o'er moor and dale ; 
But when our John hath quaff 'd his ale, 
As little as the wind that blows, 
And warms itself against his nose, 1 
Kens he, or cares, which way he goes." — 2 



show it to those who come here. This chapel is very richly adorn'd ; and on the 
spot where the saint's dead body was discovered, which is just beneath the hole 
in the rock, which is open'd on purpose, as I said, there is a very fine statue of 
marble, representing her in a lying posture, railed in all about with fine iron and 
brass work; and the altar, on which they say mass, is built just over it." — 
Voyage to Sicily and Malta, by Mr. John Dryden (son to the poet), p. 107. 

1 [MS. — "And with metheglin warm'd his nose, 

As little as," &c] 

2 [" This poem has faults of too great magnitude to be passed without 
notice. There is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in some passages, which we 
think must be offensive to every reader of delicacy, and which are not, for the 
most part, redeemed by any vigor or picturesque effect. The venison pasties, 
we think, are of this description ; and this commemoration of Sir Hugh Heron's 
troopers, who 

' Have drunk the monks of St. Bothan's ale,' &c. 

The long account of Friar John, though not without merit, offends in the same 
sort ; nor can we easily conceive how any one could venture, in a serious poem, 
to speak of 

' the wind that blows, 
And warms itself against his nose.'' " 

Jeffrey.] 



52 MARMION. [canto i. 

XXV. 

"Gramercy ! " quoth Lord Marmion, 
" Full loth were I, that Friar John, 
That venerable man, for me, 
Were placed in fear or jeopardy. 
If this same Palmer will me lead 

From hence to Holy-Rood, 
Like his good saint, I'll pay his meed, 
Instead of cockle-shell, or bead, 

With angels fair and good. 
I love such holy ramblers ; still 
They know to charm a weary hill, 

With song, romance, or lay : 
Some jovial tale, or glee, or jest, 
Some lying legend, at the least, 

They bring to cheer the way." 

XXVI. 

"Ah ! noble sir," young Selby said, 

And finger on his lip he laid, 

" This man knows much, perchance e'en more 

Than he could learn by holy lore. 

Still to himself he's muttering, 

And shrinks as at some unseen thing. 

Last night we listen'd at his cell \ 

Strange sounds we heard, and, sooth to tell, 

He murmur'd on till morn, howe'er 

No living mortal could be near. 

Sometimes Y thought I heard it plain, 

As other voices spoke again. 

I cannot tell — I like it not — 

Friar John hath told us it is wrote, 



canto i.J THE CASTLE. 53 

No conscience clear, and void of wrong, 
Can rest awake, and pray so long. 
Himself still sleeps before his beads 
Have mark'd ten aves, and two creeds." — 1 

XXVII. 

— " Let pass," quoth Marmion ; " by my fay, 
This man shall guide me on my way, 
Although the great arch-fiend and he 
Had sworn themselves of company. 
So please you, gentle youth, to call 
This Palmer 2 to the Castle-hall." 
The summon'd Palmer came in place ; 

1 Friar John understood the soporific virtue of his beads and breviary, as 
well as his namesake in Rabelais. " But Gargantua could not sleep by any 
means, on which side soever he turned himself. Whereupon the monk said 
to him, 'I never sleep soundly but when I am at sermon or prayers: Let us 
therefore begin, you and I, the seven penitential psalms, to try whether you 
shall not quickly fall asleep.' The conceit pleased Gargantua very well ; and, 
beginning the first of these psalms, as soon as they came to Beati quorum, they 
fell asleep, both the one and the other." 

2 A Palmer, opposed to a Pilgrim, was one who made it his sole business to 
visit different holy shrines ; travelling incessantly, and subsisting by charity : 
whereas the Pilgrim retired to his usual home and occupations, when he had 
paid his devotions at the particular spot which was the object of his pilgrimage. 
The Palmers seem to have been the Quoestionarih of the ancient Scottish 
canons 1242 and 1296. There is in the Bannatyne MS. a burlesque account of 
two such persons, entitled " Simmy and his Brother." Their accoutrements are 
thus ludicrously described (I discard the ancient spelling) : — 

" Syne shaped them up, to loup on leas, 

Two tabards of the tartan ; 
They counted nought what their clouts were 

When sew'd them on, in certain, 
Syne clampit up St. Peter's keys, 

Made of an old red gartane; 
St. James's shells, on t'other side, shews 

As pretty as a partane 

Toe, 
On Symmye and his brother." 



54 MARMION. [canto i. 

His sable cowl o'erhung his face ; 
In his black mantle was he clad, 
With Peter's keys, in cloth of red, 

On his broad shoulders wrought ; 
The scallop shell his cap did deck ; 
The crucifix around his neck 

Was from Loretto brought ; 
His sandals were with travel tore, 
Staff, budget, bottle, scrip, he wore ; 
The faded palm-branch in his hand 
Show'd pilgrim from the Holy Land. 1 

XXVIII. 

When as the Palmer came in hall, 

Nor lord, nor knight, was there more tall, 

Or had a statelier step withal, 

Or look'd more high and keen ; 
For no saluting did he wait, 
But strode across the hall of state, 
And fronted Marmion where he sate, 2 

As he his peer had been. 
But his gaunt frame was worn with toil ; 
His cheek was sunk, alas, the while ! 
And when he struggled at a smile, 

His eye look'd haggard wild : 
Poor wretch, the mother that him bare, 
If she had been in presence there, 
In his wan face, and sun-burn 'd hair, 

She had not known her child. 
Danger, long travel, want, or woe, 

1 [" The first presentment of the mysterious Palmer is laudable." — JEF- 
FREY.] 

2 [MS. — " And near Lord Marmion took his seat."] 




But stvode across the hall of state, 
And fronted Marmion where he sate." 

Canto i. 28. 



canto i.] THE CASTLE. 55 

Soon changed the form that best we know — 
For deadly fear can time outgo, 

And blanch at once the hair ; 
Hard toil can roughen form and face, 1 
And want can quench the eye's bright grace, 
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace 

More deeply than despair. 
Happy whom none of these befall," 2 
But this poor Palmer knew them all. 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion then his boon did ask ; 
The Palmer took on him the task, 
So he would march with morning tide, 3 
To Scottish court to be his guide. 
" But I have solemn vows to pay, 
And may not linger by the way, 

To fair Saint Andrew's bound, 
Within the ocean-cave to pray, 
Where good Saint Rule his holy lay, 
From midnight to the dawn of day, 

Sung to the billows' sound ; 4 



[MS. — " Hard toil can alter form and face, 

( roughen youthful grace. 

And want can •< quench 



dim 



the eyes of grace.] 



2 [MS. — " Happy whom none such woes befall."] 

3 [MS. — " So he would ride with morning tide."] 

4 St. Regulus {Scottice, St. Rule), a monk of Patrae, in Achaia, warned by 
a vision, is said, A.D. 370, to have sailed westward, until he landed at St. 
Andrews, in Scotland, where he founded a chapel and tower. The latter is 
still standing; and, though we may doubt the precise date of its foundation, is 
certainly one of the most ancient edifices in Scotland. A cave, nearly fronting 
the ruinous castle of the Archbishops of St. Andrews, bears the name of this 
religious person. It is difficult of access ; and the rock in which it is hewed is 



56 MARMION. [canto I. 

Thence to Saint Fillan's blessed well, 
Whose spring can frenzied dreams dispel, 

And the crazed brain restore : l 
Saint Mary grant, that cave or spring 
Could back to peace my bosom bring, 

Or bid it throb no more ! " 

XXX. 

And now the midnight draught of sleep, 
Where wine and spices richly steep, 
In massive bowl of silver deep, 

The page presents on knee. 
Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, 
The Captain pledged his noble guest, 
The cup went through among the rest, 2 

W T ho drain'd it merrily ; 
Alone the Palmer pass'd it by, 
Though Selby press'd him courteously. 
This was a sign the feast was o'er : 
It hush'd the merry wassel roar, 3 

washed by the German Ocean. It is nearly round, about ten feet in diameter, 
and the same in height. On one side is a sort of stone altar; on the other an 
aperture into an inner den, where the miserable ascetic, who inhabited this 
dwelling, probably slept. At full tide, egress and regress are hardly practicable. 
As Regulus first colonized the metropolitan see of Scotland, and converted the 
inhabitants in the vicinity, he has some reason to complain that the ancient 
name of Killrule {Cella Reguli) should have been superseded, even in favor of 
the tutelar saint of Scotland. The reason of the change was that St. Rule is 
said to have brought to Scotland the relics of St. Andrew. 

1 St. Fillan was a Scottish saint of some reputation. Although Popery is 
with us matter of abomination, yet the common people still retain some of the 
superstitions connected with it. There are in Perthshire several wells and 
springs dedicated to St. Fillan, which are still places of pilgrimage and offer- 
ings, even among the Protestants. They are held powerful in cases of madness ; 
and, in some of very late occurrence, lunatics have been left all night bound to 
the holy stone, in confidence that the saint would cure and unloose them before 
morning. [See various notes to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.] 

2 [MS. — " The cup pass'd round among the rest,"] 
8 [MS. — " Soon died the merry wassel roar."] 



canto i.] THE CASTLE. 57 

The minstrels ceased to sound. 
Soon in the castle nought was heard, 
But the slow footstep of the guard, 

Pacing his sober round. 

XXXI. 

With early dawn Lord Marmion rose : 

And first the chapel doors unclose ; 

Then, after morning rites were done 

(A hasty mass from Friar John,) 1 

And knight and squire had broke their fast, 

On rich substantial repast, 

Lord Marmion's bugles blew to horse : 

Then came the stirrup-cup in course : 

Between the Baron and his host, 

No point of courtesy was lost ; 

High thanks were by Lord Marmion paid, 

Solemn excuse the Captain made, 

Till, filing from the gate, had pass'd 

That noble train, their Lord the last. 

Then loudly rung the trumpet call ; 

Thunder' d the cannon from the wall, 

And shook the Scottish shore ; 
Around the castle eddied slow, 
Volumes of smoke as white as snow, 

And hid its turrets hoar ; 
Till they roll'd forth upon the air, 2 
And met the river breezes there, 
Which gave again the prospect fair. 

1 [" In Catholic countries, in ord,er to reconcile the pleasures of the great 
with the observances of religion, it was common, when a party was bent for the 
chase, to celebrate mass, abridged and maimed of its rites, called a hunting- 
mass, the brevity of which was designed to correspond with the impatience of 
the audience." — Note to " The Abbots New Edit.] 

2 [MS. — " Slow they roll'd forth upon the air."] 



MARMION. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 

TO THE REV. JOHN MARRIOTT, A.M. 

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

The scenes are desert now, and bare, 

Where flourish'd once a forest fair, 1 

When these waste glens with copse were lined, 

And peopled with the hart and hind. 

Yon Thorn — perchance whose prickly spears 

Have fenced him for three hundred years, 

While fell around his green compeers — 

Yon lonely Thorn, would he could tell 

The changes of his parent dell. 2 

Since he, so gray and stubborn now, 

Waved in each breeze a sapling bough ; 

Would he could tell how deep the shade 



1 [See Appendix, Note F.] 

2 [" The second epistle opens again with ' chance and change ' ; but it can- 
not be denied that the mode in which it is introduced is new and poetical. 
The comparison of Ettrick Forest, now open and naked, with the state in which 
it once was, covered with wood, the favorite resort of the royal hunt, and the 
refuge of daring outlaws, leads the poet to imagine an ancient thorn gifted 
with the powers of reason, and relating the various scenes which it has wit- 
nessed during a period of three hundred years. A melancholy train of fancy is 
naturally encouraged by the idea." — Monthly Review?^ 



6o MARMION. 



A thousand mingled branches made ; 
How. broad the shadows of the oak, 
How clung the rowan x to the rock, 
And through the foliage show'd his head, 
With narrow leaves and berries red ; 
What pines on every mountain sprung, 
O'er every dell what birches hung, 
In every breeze what aspens shook, 
What alders shaded every brook ! 

" Here, in my shade," methinks he'd say, 
The mighty stag at noon-tide lay : 
The wolf I've seen, a fiercer game, 
(The neighboring dingle bears his name,) 
With lurking step around me prowl, 
And stop, against the moon to howl ; 
The mountain-boar, on battle set, 
His tusks upon my stem would whet ; 
While doe, and roe, and red-deer good, 
Have bounded by, through gay green-wood. 
Then oft, from Newark's 2 riven tower, 
Sallied a Scottish monarch's power : 
A thousand vassals muster'd round, 
With horse, and hawk, and horn, and hound ; 
And I might see the youth intent, 
Guard every pass with crossbow bent ; 
And through the brake the rangers stalk, 
And falc'ners hold the ready hawk ; 
And foresters, in green-wood trim, 
Lead in the leash the gazehounds grim, 

1 Mountain ash. 

[MS. — " How broad the ash his shadows flung, 
How to the rock the rowan clung."] 

2 [See Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 6 1 

Attentive, as the bratchet's l bay 
From the dark covert drove the prey, 
To slip them as he broke away. 
The startled quarry bounds amain, 
A fast the gallant greyhounds strain ; 
Whistles the arrow from the bow, 
Answers the harquebuss below ; 
While all the rocking hills reply, 
To hoof-clang, hound, and hunters' cry, 
And bugles ringing lightsomely." 

Of such proud huntings, many tales 
Yet linger in our lonely dales, 
Up pathless Ettrick and on Yarrow, 
Where erst the outlaw drew his arrow. 2 
But not more blithe that silvan court, 
Than we have been at humbler sport ; 
Though small our pomp, and mean our game, 
Our mirth, dear Marriott, was the same. 
Remember'st thou my greyhounds true ? 
O'er holt or hill there never flew, 
From slip or leash there never sprang, 
More fleet of foot, or sure of fang. 
Nor dull, between each merry chase, 
Pass'd by the intermitted space ; 
For we had fair resource in store, 
In Classic and in Gothic lore : 
We mark'd each memorable scene, 
And held poetic talk between ; 

1 [Slowhound.] 

2 [The tale of the outlaw Murray, who held out Newark Castle and Ettrick 
Forest against the King, may be found in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. i. In the 
Macfarlane MS., among other causes of James the Fifth's charter to the burgh 
of Selkirk, is mentioned, that the citizens assisted him to suppress this danger- 
ous outlaw.] 



62 MARMION. 



Nor hill, nor brook, we paced along, 

But had its legend or its song. 

All silent now — for now are still 

Thy bovvers, untenanted Bowhill ! l 

No longer, from thy mountains dun, 

The yeoman hears the well-known gun, 

And while his honest heart glows warm, 

At thought of his paternal farm, 

Round to his mates a brimmer fills, 

And drinks, " The Chieftain of the Hills ! " 

No fairy forms, in Yarrow's bowers, 

Trip o'er the walks, or tend the flowers, 

Fair as the elves whom Janet saw 

By moonlight dance on Carterhaugh ; 

No youthful Baron's left to grace 

The Forest-Sheriff's lonely chase, 

And ape, in manly step and tone, 

The majesty of Oberon : 2 

And she is gone, whose lovely face 

Is but her least and lowest grace ; 3 

Though if to Sylphid Queen 'twere given, 

To show our earth the charms of Heaven, 

She could not glide along the air, 

With form more light, or face more fair. 

No more the widow's deafen'd ear 

Grows quick that lady's step to hear : 

At noontide she expects her not, 

Nor busies her to trim the cot ; 

1 [A seat of the Duke of Buccleuch on the Yarrow, in Ettrick Forest. See 
Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.] 

2 [Mr. Marriott was governor to the young nobleman here alluded to, George 
Henry, Lord Scott, son to Charles Earl of Dalkeith (afterwards Duke of Buc- 
cleuch and Queensberry), who died early, in 1808.] 

3 [The four next lines on Harriet, Countess of Dalkeith, afterwards Duchess 
of Buccleuch, were not in the original MS.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 63 

Pensive she turns her humming wheel, 
Or pensive cooks her orphans' meal, 
Yet blesses, ere she deals their bread, 
The gentle hand by which they're fed. 

From Yair, — which hills so closely bind, 
Scarce can the Tweed his passage find, 
Though much he fret, and chafe, and toil, 
Till all his eddying currents boil, — 
Her long descended lord l is gone, 
And left us by the stream alone. 
And much I miss those sportive boys, 2 
Companions of my mountain joys, 
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 
When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 
Close to my side, with what delight 
They press'd to hear of Wallace wight, 
When, pointing to his airy mound, 
I call'd his ramparts holy ground ! 3 
Kindled their brows to hear me speak ; 
And I have smiled, to feel my cheek, 
Despite the difference of our years, 
Return again the glow of theirs. 
Ah ! happy boys ! such feelings pure, 
They will not, cannot long endure, 
Condemn'd to stem the world's rude tide, 
You may not linger by the side ; 
For Fate shall thrust you from the shore, 
And passion ply the sail and oar. 4 

1 [The late Alexander Pringle, Esq. of Whytbank, whose beautiful seat of 
the Yair stands on the Tweed, about two miles below Ashestiel, the then resi- 
dence of the poet.] 

2 [The sons of Mr. Pringle of Whytbank.] 

3 There is, on a high mountainous ridge above the farm of Ashestiel, a 
fosse called Wallace's Trench. 

4 [MS. — " And youth shall ply the sail and oar."] 



6 4 



MARMION. 



Yet cherish the remembrance still, 
Of the lone mountain, and the rill ; 
For trust, dear boys, the time will come, 
When fiercer transport shall be dumb, 
And you will think right frequently, 
But, well I hope, without a sigh, 
On the free hours that we have spent, 
Together, on the brown hill's bent. 

When, musing on companions gone, 
We doubly feel ourselves alone, 
Something, my friend, we yet may gain, 
There is a pleasure in this pain : 
It soothes the love of lonely rest, 
Deep in each gentler heart impress'd. 
'Tis silent amid worldly toils, 
And stifled soon by mental broils ; 
But, in a bosom thus prepared, 
Its still small voice is often heard, 
Whispering a mingled sentiment, 
'Twixt resignation and content. 
Oft in my mind such thoughts awake, 
By lone Saint Mary's silent lake ; l 

1 This beautiful sheet of water forms the reservoir from which the Yarrow 
takes its source. It is connected with a smaller lake, called the Loch of the 
Lowes, and surrounded by mountains. In the winter, it is still frequented by 
flights of wild swans ; hence my friend Mr. Wordsworth's lines : — 

" The swan on sweet St. Mary's lake 
Floats double, swan and shadow." 

Near the lower extremity of the lake are the ruins of Dryhope tower, the 
birthplace of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip Scott of Dryhope, and famous by 
the traditional name of the Flower of Yarrow. She was married to Walter 
Scott of Harden, no less renowned for his depredations, than his bride for her 
beauty. Her romantic appellation was, in latter days, with equal justice, con- 
ferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the last of the elder branch of the Harden 
family. The author well remembers the talent and spirit of the latter Flower 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 



65 



Thou know'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedge, 

Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge ; 

Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink 

At once upon the level brink ; 

And just a trace of silver sand l 

Marks where the water meets the land. 

Far in the mirror, bright and blue, 

Each hill's huge outline you may view • 2 

Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare, 

Nor tree, nor bush, nor brake, is there, 

Save where, of land, yon slender line 

Bears thwart the lake the scatter' d pine, 

Yet even this nakedness has power, 

And aids the feeling of the hour : 

Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, 

Where living thing conceal'd might lie ; 

Nor point, retiring, hides a dell, 

Where swain, or woodman lone, might dwell ; 

There's nothing left to fancy's guess, 

You see that all is loneliness : 

And silence aids — though the steep hills 

Send to the lake a thousand rills ; 

In summer tide, so soft they weep, 

The sound but lulls the ear asleep ; 

Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude, 

So stilly is the solitude. 

of Yarrow, though age had then injured the charms which procured her the 
name. The words usually sung to the air of " Tweedside," beginning, " What 
beauties does Flora disclose," were composed in her honor. 

1 [MS. — "At once upon the \ .. [ brink ; 

And just a line of pebbly sand."] 

2 [MS. — " Far traced upon the lake you view 

The hill's j ° \ sides and sombre hue."] 



66 MARMION. 



Nought living meets the eye or ear, 
But well I ween the dead are near ; 
For though, in feudal strife, a foe 
Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, 1 
Yet still, beneath the hallow'd soil, 
The peasant rests him from his toil, 
And, dying, bids his bones be laid, 
Where erst his simple fathers pray'd. 

If age had tamed the passions' strife, 2 
And fate had cut my ties to life, 
Here have I thought, 'twere sweet to dwell, 
And rear again the chaplain's cell, 
Like that same peaceful hermitage, 
Where Milton long'd to spend his age. 3 
'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, 



1 The chapel of St. Mary of the Lowes (de lacubus) was situated on the 
eastern side of the lake, to which it gives name. It was injured by the clan of 
Scott, in a feud with the Cranstouns ; but continued to be a place of worship 
during the seventeenth century. The vestiges of the building can now scarcely 
be traced; but the burial ground is still used as a cemetery. A funeral, in a 
spot so very retired, has an uncommonly striking effect. The vestiges of the 
chaplain's house are yet visible. Being in a high situation, it commanded a full 
view of the lake, with the opposite mountain of Bourhope, belonging, with the 
lake itself, to Lord Napier. On the left hand is the tower of Dryhope, men- 
tioned in a preceding note. 

2 [" A few of the lines which follow breathe as true a spirit of peace and 
repose, as even the simplest strains of our venerable Walton." — Monthly 
Review?^ 

3 [" And may at last my weary age 
Find out the peaceful hermitage, 
The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 
Of every star that heaven doth show, 
And every herb that sips the dew : 
Till old experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain." 

// Penseroso!\ 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 6y 

On Bourhope's lonely top decay ; 

And, as it faint and feeble died 

On the broad lake, and mountain's side, 

To say, " Thus pleasures fade away ; 

Youth, talents, beauty thus decay, 

And leave us dark, forlorn, and gray ; " 

Then gaze on Dryhope's ruin'd tower, 

And think on Yarrow's faded Flower : 

And when that mountain-sound I heard, 

Which bids us be for storm prepared, 

The distant rustling of his wings, 

As up his force the Tempest brings, 

'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, 

To sit upon the Wizard's grave ; 

That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust, 

From company of holy dust ; l 

On which no sunbeam ever shines — 

(So superstition's creed divines) — 

Thence view the lake, with sullen roar, 

Heave her broad billows to the shore ; 

And mark the wild- swans mount the gale, 

Spread wide through midst their snowy sail, 2 

And ever stoop again, to lave 

Their bosoms on the surging wave ; 

Then, when against the driving hail 

No longer might my plaid avail, 

1 At one corner of the burial ground of the demolished chapel, but without 
its precincts, is a small mound, called Binranis Corse, where tradition deposits 
the remains of a necromantic priest, the former tenant of the chaplainry. His 
story much resembles that of Ambrosio in " The Monk," and has been made 
the theme of a ballad by my friend Mr. James Hogg, more poetically designed 
the Ettrick Shepherd. To his volume entitled " The Mountain Bard," which 
contains this and many other legendary stories and ballads of great merit, I 
refer the curious reader. 

2 [MS. — " Spread through broad mist their snowy sail."] 



68 MARMTON. 



Back to my lonely home retire, 

And light my lamp, and trim my fire ■ 

There ponder o'er some mystic lay, 

Till the wild tale had all its sway, 1 

And, in the bittern's distant shriek, 

I heard unearthly voices speak, 

And thought the Wizard Priest was come, 

To claim again his ancient home ! 

And bade my busy fancy range, 

To frame him fitting shape and strange, 

Till from the task my brow I clear' d, 2 

And smiled to think that I had fear'd. 

But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life, 
(Though but escape from fortune's strife,) 
Something most matchless good and wise, 
A great and grateful sacrifice ; 
And deem each hour, to musing given, 
A step upon the road to heaven. 

Yet him, whose heart is ill at ease, 
Such peaceful solitudes displease ; 
He loves to drown his bosom's jar 
Amid the elemental war : 
And my black Palmer's choice had been 
Some ruder and more savage scene, 
Like that which frowns round dark Loch-skene. 3 

1 [MS. — " Till fancy wild had all her sway."] 

2 [MS. — " Till from the task my brain I -clear'd."] 

3 Loch-skene is a mountain-lake, of considerable size, at the head of the 
Moffat-water. The character of the scenery is uncommonly savage ; and the 
earn, or Scottish eagle, has for many ages built its nest yearly upon an islet in 
the lake. Loch-skene discharges itself into a brook, which, after a short and 
precipitate course, falls from a cataract of immense height and gloomy gran- 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SECOND. 69 

There eagles scream from isle to shore ; 
Down all the rocks the torrents roar ; 
O'er the black waves incessant driven, 
Dark mists infect the summer heaven ; 
Through the rude barriers of the lake, 
Away its hurrying waters break, 
Faster and whiter dash and curl, 
Till down yon dark abyss they hurl. 
Rises the fog-smoke white as snow, 
Thunders the viewless stream below. 
Diving, as if condemn'd to lave 
Some demon's subterranean cave, 
Who, prison'd by enchanter's spell, 
Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell. 
And well that Palmer's form and mien 
Had suited with the stormy scene, 
Just on the edge, straining his ken 
To view the bottom of the den, 
Where, deep deep down, and far within, 
Toils with the rocks the roaring linn ; 
Then, issuing forth one foamy wave, 
And wheeling round the Giant's Grave, 
White as the snowy charger's tail, 
Drives down the pass of Moffatdale. 

Marriott, thy harp, on Isis strung, 
To many a Border theme has rung : l 
Then list to me, and thou shalt know 
Of this mysterious Man of Woe. 

deur, called, from its appearance, the " Grey Mare's Tale." The " Giant's 
Grave," afterwards mentioned, is a sort of trench which bears that name, a little 
way from the foot of the cataract. It has the appearance of a battery, designed 
to command the pass. 

1 [See various ballads by Mr. Marriott, in the 4th vol. of the Border Min- 
strelsy.] 



©atxlxr M>zt0u&. 



THE CONVENT. 



The breeze, which swept away the smoke, 

Round Norham Castle roll'd, 
When all the loud artillery spoke, 
With lightning- flash, and thunder-stroke, 

As Marmion left the Hold. 
It curl'd not Tweed alone, that breeze, 
For, far upon Northumbrian seas, 

It freshly blew, and strong, 
Where, from high Whitby's cloister'd pile, 1 
Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, 2 

1 The Abbey of Whitby, in the Archdeaconry of Cleaveland, on the coast of 
Yorkshire, was founded A.D. 657, in consequence of a vow of Owsy, King of 
Northumberland. It contained both monks and nuns of the Benedictine 
order ; but, contrary to what was usual in such establishments, the abbess was 
superior to the abbot. The monastery was afterwards ruined by the Danes, 
and rebuilded by William Percy in the reign of the Conqueror. There were no 
nuns there in Henry the Eighth's time, nor long before it. The ruins of 
Whitby Abbey are very magnificent. 

2 Lindisfarne, an isle on the coast of Northumberland, was called Holy 
Island, from the sanctity of its ancient monastery, and from its having been the 
episcopal seat of the see of Durham during the early ages of British Christian- 
ity. A succession of holy men held that office ; but their merits were swallowed 
up in the superior fame of St. Cuthbert, who was sixth bishop of Durham, and 
who bestowed the name of his " patrimony " upon the extensive property of the 
see. The ruins of the monastery upon Holy Island betoken great antiquity. 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT. ;i 

It bore a bark along. 
Upon the gale she stoop'd her side, 
And bounded o'er the swelling tide, 

As she were dancing home ; 
The merry seamen laugh'd, to see 
Their gallant ship so lustily 

Furrow the green sea-foam. 
Much joy'd they in their honor'd freight ; 
For, on the deck, in chair of state, 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, 
With five fair nuns, the galley graced. 

II. 
'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, 
Like birds escaped to green-wood shades, 

Their first flight from the cage, 
How timid, and how curious too, 
For all to them was strange and new, 
And all the common sights they view, 

Their wonderment engage. 
One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail, 

With many a benedicite ; 
One at the rippling surge grew pale, 

And would for terror pray ; 
Then shriek' d, because the seadog, nigh, 
His round black head, and sparkling eye, 

The arches are, in general, strictly Saxon ; and the pillars which support them, 
short, strong, massy. In some places, however, there are pointed windows 
which indicate that the building has been repaired at a period long subsequent 
to the original foundation. The exterior ornaments of the building, being of 
a light sandy stone, have been wasted, as described in the text. Lindisfarne is 
not properly an island, but rather, as the venerable Bede has termed it, a semi- 
isle ; for, although surrounded by the sea at full tide, the ebb leaves the sands 
dry between it and the opposite coast of Northumberland, from which it is 
about three miles distant. 



j 2 M ARM ION. [canto ii. 

Rear'd o'er the foaming spray ; 
And one would still adjust her veil, 
Disorder'd by the summer gale. 
Perchance lest some more worldly eye 
Her dedicated charms might spy ; 
Perchance, because such action graced 
Her fair-turn'd arm and slender waist. 
Light was each simple bosom there, 
Save two, who ill might pleasure share, — 
The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. 

III. 

The Abbess was of noble blood, 

But early took the veil and hood, 

Ere upon life she cast a look, 

Or knew the world that she forsook. 

Fair too she was, and kind had been 

As she was fair, but ne'er had seen 

For her a timid lover sigh, 

Nor knew the influence of her eye. 

Love, to her ear, was but a name, 

Combined with vanity and shame ; 

Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all 

Bounded within the cloister wall : 

The deadliest sin her mind could reach, 

Was of monastic rule the breach ; 

And her ambition's highest aim 

To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. 

For this she gave her ample dower, 1 

To raise the convent's eastern tower ; 



[MS. — " ' Twas she that gave her ample dower, 

Twas she, with carving rare and quaint, 
Who deck'd the chapel of the saint."] 



canto II.] THE CONVENT. 73 

For this, with carving rare and quaint, 
She deck'd the chapel of the saint, 
And gave the relic-shrine of cost, 
With ivory and gems emboss'd. 
The poor her Convent's bounty blest, 
The pilgrim in its halls found rest. 

IV. 

Black was her garb, her rigid rule 
Reform' d on Benedictine school ; 
Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ; 
Vigils, and penitence austere, 
Had early quench'd the light of youth, 
But gentle was the dame, in sooth ; 
Though, vain of her religious sway, 
She loved to see her maids obey, 
Yet nothing stern was she in cell, 
And the nuns loved their Abbess well. 
Sad was this voyage to the dame ; 
Summon'd to Lindisfarne, she came, 
There, with Saint Cuthbert's Abbot old, 
And Tynemouth's Prioress, to hold 
A chapter of Saint Benedict, 
For inquisition stern and strict, 
On two apostates from the faith, 
And, if need were, to doom to death. 



Nought say I here of sister Clare, 
Save this, that she was young and fair 
As yet a novice unprofess'd, 
Lovely and gentle, but distress'd 
She was betroth'd to one now dead, 



74 MARMION. [canto ii. 

Or worse, who had dishonor'd fled. 
Her kinsmen bade her give her hand 
To one who loved her for her land : 
Herself, almost heart-broken now, 
Was bent to take the vestal vow, 
And shroud, within Saint Hilda's gloom, 
Her blasted hopes and wither'd bloom. 

VI. 

She sate upon the galley's prow, 

And seem'd to mark the waves below ; 

Nay, seem'd, so fix'd her look and eye, 

To count them as they glided by. 

She saw them not — 'twas seeming all — 

Far other scene her thoughts recall, — 

A sun-scorch'd desert, waste and bare, 

Nor waves, nor breezes, murmur'd there ; 

There saw she, where some careless hand 

O'er a dead corpse had heap'd the sand, 

To hide it till the jackals come, 

To tear it from the scanty tomb. — 

See what a woeful look was given, 

As she raised up her eyes to heaven ! 

VII. 

Lovely, and gentle, and distress'd — 

These charms might tame the fiercest breast : 

Harpers have sung, and poets told, 

That he, in fury uncontroll'd, 

The shaggy monarch of the wood, 

Before a virgin, fair and good, 

Hath pacified his savage mood. 

But passions in the human frame, 



canto II.] THE CONVENT. 75 

Oft put the lion's rage to shame : 

And jealousy, by dark intrigue, 

With sordid avarice in league, 

Had practised with their bowl and knife, 

Against the mourner's harmless life. 

This crime was charged 'gainst those who lay 

Prison'd in Cuthbert's islet gray. 

VIII. 
And now the vessel skirts the strand 
Of mountainous Northumberland ; 
Towns, towers, and halls, successive rise, 
And catch the nuns' delighted eyes. 
Monk-Wearmouth soon behind them lay, 
And Tynemouth's priory and bay ; 
They mark'd, amid her trees, the hall 
Of lofty Seaton-Delaval ; 
They saw the Blythe and Wansbeck floods 
Rush to the sea through sounding woods ; 
They pass'd the tower of Widderington, 1 
Mother of many a valiant son ; 
At Coquet-isle their beads they tell 
To the good Saint who own'd the cell ; 
Then did the Alne attention claim, 
And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name ; 
And next, they cross'd themselves, to hear 
The whitening breakers sound so near, 
There, boiling through the, rocks, they roar, 
On Dunstanborough's cavern'd shore ; 
Thy tower, proud Bamborough, mark'd they there, 
King Ida's castle, huge and square, 
From its tall rock look grimly down, 
And on the swelling ocean frown ; 

1 [See the Notes on Chevy Chase. — PERCY'S Reliques^[ 



y6 MARMION. [canto II. 

Then from the coast they bore away, 
And reach'd the Holy Island's bay. 



IX. 

The tide did now its flood -mark gain, 
And girdled in the Saint's domain : 
For, with the flow and ebb, its style 
Varies from continent to isle ; 
Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day, 
The pilgrims to the shrine find way ; 
Twice every day, the waves efface 
Of staves and sandall'd feet the trace. 
As to the port the galley flew, 
Higher and higher rose to view 
The Castle with its battled walls, 
The ancient Monastery's halls, 
A solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, 
Placed on the margin of the isle. 

X. 

In Saxon strength that Abbey frown 'd, 
With massive arches broad and round, 
That rose alternate, row and row, 
On ponderous columns, short and low, 

Built ere the art was known, 
By pointed aisle, and shafted stalk, 
The arcades of an alley'd walk 
To emulate in stone. 
On the deep walls, the heathen Dane 
Had pour'd his impious rage in vain ; 
And needful was such strength to these, 
Exposed to the tempestuous seas, 
Scourged by the winds' eternal sway, 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT. 77 

Open to rovers fierce as they, 

Which could twelve hundred years withstand 

Winds, waves, and northern pirates' hand. 

Not but that portions of the pile, 

Rebuilded in a later style, 

Show'd where the spoiler's hand had been ; 

Not but the wasting sea-breeze keen 

Had worn the pillar's carving quaint, 

And moulder'd in his niche the saint, 

And rounded, with comsuraing power, 

The pointed angles of each tower ; 

Yet still entire the Abbey stood, 

Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued. 



XI. 

Soon as they near'd his turrets strong, 
The maidens raised Saint Hilda's song, 
And with the sea-wave and the wind, 
Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined, 

And made harmonious close ; 
Then, answering from the sandy shore, 
Half-drown'd amid the breakers' roar, 

According chorus rose : 
Down to the haven of the Isle, 
The monks and nuns in order file, 

From Cuthbert's cloisters grim ; 
Banner, and cross, and relics there, 
To meet Saint Hilda's maids, they bare ; 
And, as they caught the sounds on air, 

They echo'd back the hymn. 
The islanders, in joyous mood, 
Rush'd emulously through the flood, 

To hale the bark to land. 



yS MARMION. [canto ii. 

Conspicuous by her veil and hood, 
Signing the cross, the Abbess stood, 
And bless' d them with her hand. 

XII. 

Suppose we now the welcome said, 
Suppose the Convent banquet made : 

All through the holy dome, 
Through cloister, aisle, and gallery, 
Wherever vestal maid might pry, 
Nor risk to meet unhallow'd eye, 

The stranger sisters roam : 
Till fell the evening damp with dew, 
And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew, 
For there, even summer night is chill. 
Then, having stray'd and gazed their fill, 

They closed around the fire ; 
And all, in turn, essay'd to paint 
The rival merits of their saint, 

A theme that ne'er can tire 
A holy maid ; for, be it known, 
That their saint's honor is their own. 

XIII. 

Then Whitby's nuns exulting told, 
How to their house three Barons bold 

Must menial service do ; l 
While horns blow out a note of shame, 
And monks cry " Fye upon your name ! 
In wrath, for loss of silvan game, 

Saint Hilda's priest ye slew." — 
" This, on Ascension-day, each year, 

1 [See Appendix, Note G.] 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT 79 

While laboring on our harbor-pier, 
Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear." — 
They told how in their convent-cell 
A Saxon princess once did dwell, 

The lovely Edelfled ; 1 
And how, of thousand snakes, each one 
Was changed into a coil of stone, 

When holy Hilda pray'd ; 
Themselves, within their holy bound, 
Their stony folds had often found. 
They told, how sea-fowls' pinions fail, 
As over Whitby's towers they sail, 2 
And, sinking down, with flutterings faint, 
They do their homage to the saint. 

1 She was the daughter of King Oswy, who, in gratitude to Heaven for the 
great victory which he won, in 655, against Penda, the pagan King of Mercia, 
dedicated Edelfleda, then but a year old, to the service of God, in the mon- 
astery of Whitby, of which St. Hilda was then abbess. She afterwards adorned 
the place of her education with great magnificence. 

2 These two miracles are much insisted upon by all ancient writers, who 
have occasion to mention either Whitby or St. Hilda. The relics of the snakes 
which infested the precincts of the convent, and were, at the abbess's prayer, 
not only beheaded, but petrified, are still found about the rocks, and are 
termed by Protestant fossilists, Ammonites. 

The other miracle is thus mentioned by Camden : — "It is also ascribed to 
the power of her sanctity, that these wild geese, which, in the winter, fly in 
great flocks to the lakes and rivers unfrozen in the southern parts, to the great 
amazement of every one, fall down suddenly upon the ground, when they are in 
their flight over certain neighboring fields hereabouts : a relation I should not 
have made if I had not received it from several credible men. But those who 
are less inclined to heed superstition, attribute it to some occult quality in the 
ground, and to somewhat of antipathy between it and the geese, such as they 
say is betwixt wolves and scyllaroots : For that such hidden tendencies and 
aversions, as we call sympathies and antipathies, are implanted in many things 
by provident Nature for the preservation of them, is a thing so evident that 
every body grants it." Mr. Charlton, in his History of Whitby, points out the 
true origin of the fable from the number of seagulls that, when flying from a 
storm, often alight near Whitby ; and from the woodcocks and other birds of 
passage, who do the same upon their arrival on shore after a long flight. 



80 MARMION. [canto ii. 

XIV. 

Nor did Saint Cuthbert's daughters fail, 

To vie with these in holy tale ; 

His body's resting-place, of old, 

How oft their patron changed, they told ; l 

1 St. Cuthbert was, in the choice of his sepulchre, one of the most mutable 
and unreasonable saints in the Calendar. He died A.D. 688, in a hermitage 
upon the Fame Islands, having resigned the bishopric of Lindisfarne, or Holy 
Island, about two years before.* His body was brought to Lindisfarne, where 
it remained until a descent of the Danes, about 793, when the monastery was 
nearly destroyed. The Monks fled to Scotland, with what they deemed their 
chief treasure, the relics of St. Cuthbert. The Saint was, however, a most ca- 
pricious fellow-traveller; which was the more intolerable, as, like Sinbad's Old 
Man of the Sea, he journeyed upon the shoulders of his companions. They 
paraded him through Scotland for several years, and came as far west as 
Whithern, in Galloway, whence they attempted to sail for Ireland, but were 
driven back by tempests. He at length made a halt at Norham ; from thence 
he went to Melrose, where he remained stationary for a short time, and then 
caused himself to be launched upon the Tweed in a stone coffin, which landed 
him at Tilmouth, in Northumberland. This boat is finely shaped, ten feet long, 
three feet and a half in diameter, and only four inches thick ; so that, with very 
little assistance, it might certainly have swam : it still lies, or at least did so a 
few years ago, in two pieces, beside the ruined chapel of Tilmouth. From Til- 
mouth, Cuthbert wandered into Yorkshire; and at length made a long stay at 
Chester-le-Street, to which the bishop's see was transferred. At length, the 
Danes continuing to infest the country, the monks removed to Rippon for a 
season ; and it was in return from thence to Chester-le-Street, that, passing 
through a forest called Dunholme, the Saint and his carriage became immova- 
ble at a place named Wardlaw, or Wardilaw. Here the Saint chose his place 
of residence; and all who have seen* Durham must admit, that, if difficult in 
his choice, he evinced taste in at length fixing it. It is said that the Northum- 
brian Catholics still keep secret the precise spot of the Saint's sepulture, which 
is only intrusted to three persons at a time. When one dies, the survivors asso- 
ciate to them, in his room, a person judged fit to be the depositary of so valua- 
ble a secret. 

[The resting-place of the remains of this Saint is not now matter of uncer- 
tainty. So recently as 17th May, 1827, 1139 years after his death, their discov- 
ery and disinterment were effected. Under a blue stone, in the middle of the 

* [He resumed the bishopric of Lindisfarne, which, owing to bad health, he again re- 
linquished within less than three months before his death. — Raine's .S7. Cuthbert.~\ 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT 



How, when the rude Dane burn'd their pile, 
The monks fled forth from Holy Isle ; 
O'er northern mountain, marsh, and moor. 
From sea to sea, from shore to shore, 
Seven years Saint Cuthbert's corpse they bore. 
They rested them in fair Melrose ; 

But though, alive, he loved it well, 
Not there his relics might repose ; 

For, wondrous tale to tell ! 
In his stone-coffin forth he rides, 
A ponderous bark for river tides, 
Yet light as gossamer it glides, 
Downward to Tilmouth cell. 



shrine of St. Cuthbert, at the eastern extremity of the choir of Durham Cathe- 
dral, there was then found a walled grave, containing the coffins of the Saint. 
The first, or outer one, was ascertained to be that of 1541, the second of 1041 ; 
the third, or inner one, answering in every particular to the description of that 
of 698, was found to contain, not indeed, as had been averred then, and even 
until 1539, the incorruptible body, but the entire skeleton of the Saint ; the 
bottom of the grave being perfectly dry, free from offensive smell, and without 
the slightest sympton that a human body had ever undergone decomposition 
within its walls. The skeleton was found swathed in five silk robes of emble- 
matical embroidery, the ornamental parts laid with gold leaf, and these again 
covered with a robe of linen. Beside the skeleton was also deposited several 
gold and silver insignia, and other relics of the Saint. 

(The Roman Catholics now allow that the coffin was that of St. Cuthbert.) 
The bones of the Saint were again restored to the grave in a new coffin, 
amid the fragments of the former ones. Those portions of the inner coffin 
which could be preserved, including one of its rings, with the silver altar, golden 
cross, stole, comb, two maniples, bracelets, girdle, gold wire of the skeleton, 
and fragments of the five silk robes, and some of the rings of the outer coffin 
made in 1541, were deposited in the library of the Dean and Chapter, where 
they are now preserved. 

For ample details of the life of St. Cuthbert, — his coffin-journeys, — an ac- 
count of the opening of his tomb, and a description of the silk robes and other 
relics found in it, the reader interested in such matters is referred to a work 
entitled "Saint Cuthbert, by James Raine, M.A." (4to, Durham, 1828), where 
he will find much of antiquarian history, ceremonies, and superstitions to gratify 
his curiosity. — Ed.] 



82 MARMION. [canto ii. 

Nor long was his abiding there, 
For southward did the saint repair ; 
Chester-le-Street, and Rippon, saw 
His holy corpse, ere Wardilaw 

Hail'd him with joy and fear; 
And, after many wanderings past, 
He chose his lordly seat at last, 
Where his cathedral, huge and vast, 

Looks down upon the Wear ; 
There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 
His relics are in secret laid ; 

But none may know the place, 
Save of his holiest servants three, 
Deep sworn to solemn secrecy, 

Who share that wondrous grace. 

XV. 

Who may his miracles declare ! 

Even Scotland's dauntless king, and heir, 

(Although with them they led 
Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale, 
And Loden's knights, all sheathed in mail, 
And the bold men of Teviotdale,) 

Before his standard fled. 1 

1 Every one has heard that when David I., with his son Henry, invaded 
Northumberland in 1136, the English host marched against them under the 
holy banner of St. Cuthbert; to the efficacy of which was imputed the great 
victory which they obtained in the bloody battle of Northallerton, or Cuton- 
moor. The conquerors were at least as much indebted to the jealousy and 
intractibility of the different tribes who composed David's army ; among whom, 
as mentioned in the text, were the Galwegians, the Britons of Strath-Clyde, the 
men of Teviotdale and Lothian, with many Norman and German warriors who 
asserted the cause of the Empress Maud. See CHALMERS' Caledonia, vol. i., 
p. 622 : a most laborious, curious, and interesting publication, from which con- 
siderable defects of style and manner ought not to turn aside the Scottish 
antiquary. 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT. 83 

'Tvvas he, to vindicate his reign, 
Edged Alfred's falchion on the Dane, 
And turn'd the Conqueror back again, 1 
When, with his Norman bowyer band, 
He came to waste Northumberland. 

XVI. 

But fain St Hilda's nuns would learn 
If, on a rock, by Lindisfarne, 
Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame 
The sea-born beads that bear his name : 9 
Such tales had Whitby's fishers told, 
And said they might his shape behold, 

And hear his anvil sound ; 
A deaden'd clang, — a huge dim form, 

1 Cuthbert, we have seen, had no great reason to spare the Danes, when 
opportunity offered. Accordingly I find, in Simeon of Durham, that the Saint 
appeared in a vision to Alfred, when lurking in the marshes of Glastonbury, 
and promised him assistance and victory over his heathen enemies ; a conso- 
lation, which, as was reasonable, Alfred, after the victory of Ashendown, re- 
warded by a royal offering at the shrine of the Saint. As to William the Con- 
queror, the terror spread before his army, when he marched to punish the 
revolt of the Northumbrians, in 1096, had forced the monks to fly once more to 
Holy Island with the body of the Saint. It was, however, replaced before Wil- 
liam left the north ; and, to balance accounts, the Conqueror having intimated 
an indiscreet curiosity to view the Saint's body, he was, while in the act of com- 
manding the shrine to be opened, seized with heat and sickness, accompanied 
with such a panic terror, that, notwithstanding there was a sumptuous dinner 
prepared for him, he fled without eating a morsel (which the monkish historian 
seems to have thought no small part both of the miracle and the penance), and 
never drew his bridle till he got to the river Tees. 

2 Although we do not learn that Cuthbert was, during his life, such an arti- 
ficer as Dunstan, his brother in sanctity, yet, since his death, he has acquired 
the reputation of forging those Entrochi which are found among the rocks of 
Holy Island, and pass there by the name of St. Cuthbert's beads. While at 
this task, he is supposed to sit during the night upon a certain rock, and use 
another as his anvil. This story was perhaps credited in former days ; at least 
the Saint's legend contains some not more probable. 



84 MARMTON. [canto ii. 

Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm 1 

And night were closing round. 
But this, as tale of idle fame, 
The nuns of Lindisfarne disclaim. 

XVII. 

While round the fire such legends go, 
Far different was the scene of woe, 
Where, in a secret aisle beneath, 
Council was held of life and death. 

It was more dark and lone that vault, 
Than the worst dungeon cell : 

Old Colwulf 2 built it, for his fault, 
In penitence to dwell, 
When he, for cowl and beads, laid down 
The Saxon battle-axe and crown. 
This den, which, chilling every sense 
Of feeling, hearing, sight, 
Was called the Vault of Penitence, 

1 [MS. — " Seen only when the gathering storm."] 

2 Ceolwulf, or Colwulf, King of Northumberland, flourished in the eighth 
century. He was a man of some learning ; for the venerable Bede dedicates 
to him his " Ecclesiastical History." He abdicated the throne about 738, and 
retired to Holy Island, where he died in the odor of sanctity. Saint as Col- 
wulf was, however, I fear the foundation of the penance-vault does not corre- 
spond with his character ; for it is recorded among his memorabilia, that, find- 
ing the air of the island raw and cold, he indulged the monks, whose rule had 
hitherto confined them to milk or water, with the comfortable privilege of using 
wine or ale. If any rigid antiquary insists on this objection, he is welcome to 
suppose the penance-vault was intended, by the founder, for the more genial 
purposes of a cellar. 

These penitential vaults were the Gelssel-gewolbe of German convents. In 
the earlier and more rigid times of monastic discipline, they were sometimes 
used as a cemetery for the lay benefactors of the convent, whose unsanctified 
corpses were then seldom permitted to pollute the choir. They also served as 
places C* meeting for the chapter, when measures of uncommon severity were 
to be adopted. But their most frequent use, as implied by the name, was as 
places for performing penances, or undergoing punishment. 



canto II.] THE CONVENT. 85 

Excluding air and light, 
Was, by the prelate Sexhelm, made 
A place of burial for such dead, 
As, having died in mortal sin, 
Might not be laid the church within. 
'Twas now a place of punishment ; 
Whence if so loud a shriek was sent, 

As reach'd the upper air, 
The hearers bless'd themselves, and said, 
The spirits of the sinful dead 

Bemoan'd their torments there. 

XVIII. 

But though, in the monastic pile, 

Did of this penitential aisle 

Some vague tradition go, 

Few only, save the Abbot, knew 

Where the place lay ; and still more few 

Were those, who had from him the clew 

To that dread vault to go. 
Victim and executioner 
Were blindfold when transported there. 
In low dark rounds the arches hung, 
From the rude rock the side-walls sprung ; 
The grave-stones, rudely sculptured o'er, 
Half sunk in earth, by time half wore, 
Were all the pavement of the floor \ 
The mildew-drops fell one by one, 
With tinkling plash, upon the stone. 
A cresset, 1 in an iron chain, 2 

1 Antique chandelier. 

2 [MS. — " Suspended by an iron chain, 

A cresset show'd this j , I domain."] 



86 MARMIOJV. [canto II. 

Which served to light this drear domain, 
With damp and darkness seem'd to strive, 
As if it scarce might keep alive ; 
And yet it dimly served to show 
The awful conclave met below. 

XIX. 

There, met to doom in secrecy, 

Were placed the heads of convents three : 

All servants of Saint Benedict, 

The statutes of whose order strict 

On iron table lay ; l 
In long black dress, on seats of stone, 
Behind were these three judges shown 

By the pale cresset's ray. 
The Abbess of Saint Hilda's, there, 
Sat for a space with visage bare, 
Until, to hide her bosom's swell, 
And tear-drops that for pity fell, 

She closely drew her veil : 
Yon shrouded figure, as I guess, 
By her proud mien and flowing dress, 
Is Tynemouth's haughty Prioress, 2 

1 [MS. — "On stony table lay."] 

2 That there was an ancient priory at Tynemouth is certain. Its ruins are 
situated on a high rocky point, and doubtless many a vow was made to the 
shrine by the distressed mariners who drove towards the iron-bound coast of 
Northumberland in stormy weather. It was anciently a nunnery ; for Virca, 
abbess of Tynemouth, presented St. Cuthbert (yet alive) with a rare winding- 
sheet, in emulation of a holy lady called Tuda, who had sent him a coffin. 
But, as in the case of Whitby and of Holy Island, the introduction of nuns at 
Tynemouth in the reign of Henry VIII. is an anachronism. The nunnery at 
Holy Island is altogether fictitious. Indeed, St. Cuthbert was unlikely to per- 
mit such an establishment ; for, notwithstanding his accepting the mortuary 
gifts above mentioned, and his carrying on a visiting acquaintance with the 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT gy 

And she with awe looks pale : 
And he, that Ancient Man, whose sight 
Has long been quench'd by age's night, 
Upon whose wrinkled brow alone, 
Nor ruth, nor mercy's trace, is shown, 

Whose look is hard and stern, — 
Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his style ; 
For sanctity call'd, through the isle, 

The Saint of Lindisfarne. 



XX. 

Before them stood a guilty pair ; 
But, though an equal fate they share, 
Yet one alone deserves our care. 
Her sex a page's dress belied ; 
The cloak and doublet, loosely tied, 
Obscured her charms, but could not hide, 

Her cap down o'er her face she drew ; 
And, on her doublet breast, 

She tried to hide the badge of blue, 
Lord Marm ion's falcon crest. 
But, at the Prioress' command, 
A Monk undid the silken band 

That tied her tresses fair, 
And raised the bonnet from her head, 
And down her slender form they spread, 

In ringlets rich and rare. 
Constance de Beverley they know, 
Sister profess'd of Fontevraud, 

abbess of Coldingham, he certainly hated the whole female sex ; and, in 
revenge of a slippery trick played to him by an Irish princess, he, after death, 
inflicted severe penances on such as presumed to approach within a certain 
distance of his shrine. 



MARMION. [canto ii. 



Whom the Church number'd with the dead, 
For broken vows, and convent fled. 

XXI. 

When thus her face was given to view, 

(Although so pallid was her hue, 

It did a ghastly contrast bear 

To those bright ringlets glistering fair,) 

Her look composed, and steady eye, 

Bespoke a matchless constancy ; 

And there she stood so calm and pale, 

That, but her breathing did not fail, 

And motion slight of eye and head, 

And of her bosom, warranted 

That neither sense nor pulse she lacks, 

You might have thought a form of wax 

Wrought to the very life, was there ; 

So still she was, so pale, so fair. 1 

1 [" The picture of Constance before her judges, though more labored (than 
that of the Voyage of the Lady Abbess), is not to our taste so pleasing, though 
it has beauty of a kind fully as popular." — JEFFREY. 

" I sent for ' Marmion,' because it occurred to me there might be a resem- 
blance between part of'Parisina' and a similar scene in the second canto of 
' Marmion.' I fear there is, though I never thought of it before, and could 
hardly wish to imitate that which is inimitable. I wish you would ask Mr. 
Gifford whether I ought to say any thing upon it. I had completed the story 
on the passage from Gibbon, which indeed leads to a like scene naturally, 
without a thought of the kind; but it comes upon me not very comfortably." — 
Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, Feb. 3, 1816. Compare : — 
"... Parisina's fatal charms 

Again attracted every eye — 

Would she thus hear him doom'd to die ! 

She stood, I said, all pale and still, 

The living cause of Hugo's ill; 

Her eyes unmoved, but full and wide, 

Not once had turn'd to either side — 

Nor once did those sweet eyelids close, 

Or shade the glance o'er which they rose. 

But round their orbs of deepest blue 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT 89 

XXII. 
Her comrade was a sordid soul, 

Such as does murder for a meed ; 
Who, but of fear, knows no control, 
Because his conscience, sear'd and foul. 

Feels not the import of his deed ; 
One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires ] 
Beyond his own more brute desires. 
Such tools the Tempter ever needs, 
To do the savagest of deeds ; 
For them no vision'd terrors daunt, 
Their nights no fancied spectres haunt, 
One fear with them, of all most base, 
The fear of death, — alone finds place. 
This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, 
And shamed not loud to moan and howl, 
His body on the floor to dash, 
And crouch, like hound beneath the lash ; 
While his mute partner, standing near, 
Waited her doom without a tear. 

The circling white dilated grew — 
And there with glassy gaze she stood 
As ice were in her curdled blood; 
But every now and then a tear 

So large and slowly gather'd slid 

From the long dark fringe of that fair lid, 
It was a thing to see, not hear! 
And those who saw, it did surprise, 
Such drops could fall from human eyes. 
To speak she thought — the imperfect note 
Was choked within her swelling throat, 
Yet seem'd in that low hollow groan 
Her whole heart gushing in the tone." 

Byron's Works, vol. x. p. 171.] 

1 [In some recent editions this word has been erroneously printed " in- 
spires!' The MS. has the correct line. 

" One, whose brute-feeling ne'er aspires."] 



go MARMION. [CANTO II. 

XXIII. 

Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, 
Well might her paleness terror speak ! 
For there were seen in that dark wall, 
Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall ; — 
Who enters at such grisly door, 
Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more. 
In each a slender meal was laid, 
Of roots, of water, and of bread : 
By each, in Benedictine dress, 
Two haggard monks stood motionless ; 
Who, holding high a blazing torch, 
Show'd the grim entrance of the porch ; 
Reflecting back the smoky beam, 
The dark-red walls and arches gleam. 
Hewn stones and cement were display'd, 
And building tools in order laid. 

XXIV. 

These executioners were chose, 
As men who were with mankind foes, 
And with despite and envy fired, 
Into the cloister had retired ; 

Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, 

Strove, by deep penance, to efface 
Of some foul crime the stain ; 

For, as the vassals of her will, 

Such men the Church selected still, 

As either joy'd in doing ill, 

Or thought more grace to gain, 
If, in her cause, they wrestled down 
Feelings their nature strove to own. 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT. QI 

By strange device were they brought there, 
They knew not how, and knew not where. 

XXV. 

And now that blind old Abbot rose, 

To speak the Chapter's doom, 
On those the wall was to enclose, 

Alive, within the tomb ; 1 
But stopp'd, because that woeful Maid, 
Gathering her powers, to speak essay'd, 
Twice she essay'd, and twice in vain ; 
Her accents might no utterance gain ; 
Nought but imperfect murmurs slip 
From her convulsed and quivering lip ; 

'Tvvixt each attempt all was so still, 

You seem'd to hear a distant rill — 
'Twas ocean's swells and falls ; 

For though this vault of sin and fear 

Was to the sounding surge so near, 

A tempest there you scarce could hear, 
So massive were the walls. 

XXVI. 

At length, an effort sent apart 

The blood that curdled to her heart, 

1 It is well known that the religious, who broke their vows of chastity, were 
subjected to the same penalty as the Roman vestals in a similar case. A small 
niche, sufficient to enclose their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the 
convent ; a slender pittance of food and water was deposited in it, and the 
awful words, VADE IN Pace, were the signal for immuring the criminal. It is 
not likely that, in latter times, this punishment was often resorted to ; but 
among the ruins of the abbey of Coldingham were some years ago discovered 
the remains of a female skeleton, which, from the shape of the niche and posi- 
tion of the figure, seemed to be that of an immured nun. 

[The Edinburgh Reviewer, on st. xxxii. post, suggests that the proper reading 
of the sentence is vade in pacem — not part in peace, but go into peace, or into 
eternal rest, a pretty intelligible mittimus to another world.] 



92 MARMTON. [canto ii. 

And light came to her eye, 
And color dawn'd upon her cheek, 
A hectic and a flutter'd streak, 1 
Like that left on the Cheviot peak, 

By Autumn's stormy sky ; 
And when her silence broke at length, 
Still as she spoke she gather'd strength, 

And arm'd herself to bear. 9 
It was a fearful sight to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 

In form so soft and fair. 3 

XXVII. 

" I speak not to implore your grace, 4 
Well know I, for one minute's space 

Successless might I sue : 
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain : 
For if a death of lingering pain, 
To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, 

1 [MS. — "A feeble and a flutter'd streak, 

Like that with which the mornings break 
In Autumn's sober sky."] 

2 [" Mr. S. has judiciously combined the horrors of the punishment with a 
very beautiful picture of the offender, so as to heighten the interest which the 
situation itself must necessarily excite ; and the struggle of Constance to speak, 
before the fatal sentence, is finely painted." — Monthly Review^ 

3 [MS. — " And mann'd herself to bear. 

It was a fearful thing to see 
Such high resolve and constancy, 

In form so soft and fair ; 
Like Summer's dew her accents fell, 
But dreadful was her tale to tell."] 
* [MS. — " I speak not now to sue for grace, 

For well I know one minute's space 
Your mercy scarce would grant : 
Nor do I speak your prayers to gain ; 
For if my penance be in vain, 



canto II.] THE CONVENT. 93 

Vain are your masses too. — 
I listen'd to a traitor's tale, 
I left the convent and the veil ; 
For three long years I bow'd ray pride, 
A horse-boy in his train to ride ; 
And well my folly's meed he gave, 
Who forfeited, to be his slave, 
All here, and all beyond the grave. — 
He saw young Clara's face more fair, 
He knew her of broad lands the heir, 
Forgot his vows, his faith foreswore, 
And Constance was beloved no more. — 

Tis an old tale, and often told ; 
But did my fate and wish agree, 

Ne'er had been read, in story old, 

Of maiden true betray'd for gold, 

That loved, or was avenged, like me ! 

XXVIII. 
" The King approved his favorite's aim ; 
In vain a rival barr'd his claim, 
Whose fate with Clare's was plight, 

Your prayers I cannot want. 
Full well I knew the Church's doom, 
What time I left a convent's gloom, 

To fly with him I loved ; 
And well my folly's meed he gave — 
I forfeited, to be a slave, 
All here, and all beyond the grave, 

And faithless hath he proved ; 
He saw another face more fair, 
He saw her of broad lands the heir, 

And Constance loved no more — 
Loved her no more, who, once Heaven's bride, 
Now a scorn'd menial by his side, 
Had wander'd Europe o'er."] 



94 M ARM I ON. [canto II. 

For he attaints that rival's fame 

With treason's charge — and on they came, 

In mortal lists to fight. 
Their oaths are said, 
Their prayers are pray'd, 
Their lances in the rest are laid, 

They meet in mortal shock ; 
And hark ! the throng, with thundering cry, 
Shout ' Marmion, Marmion ! to the sky, 

De Wilton to the block ! " 
Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide 1 
When in the lists two champions ride, 

Say, was Heaven's justice here? 
When, loyal in his love and faith, 
Wilton found overthrow or death, 

Beneath a traitor's spear? 
How false the charge, how true he fell, 
This guilty packet best can tell. — 
Then drew a packet from her breast, 
Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest. 

XXIX. 

" Still was false Marmion's bridal staid ; 
To Whitby's convent fled the maid, 

The hated match to shun. 
' Ho ! shifts she thus ? ' King Henry cried, 
' Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, 

If she were sworn a nun.' 
One way remain'd — the King's command 
Sent Marmion to the Scottish land : 
I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd 

1 [MS. — " Say ye, who preach the heavens decide 
When in the lists the warriors ride."! 



canto ii.] THE CONVENT. 95 

For Clara and for me : 
This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, 
He would to Whitby's shrine repair, 
And, by his drugs, my rival fair 
A saint in heaven should be. 
But ill the dastard kept his oath, 
Whose cowardice has undone us both. 

XXX. 

"And now my tongue the secret tells, 
Not that remorse my bosom swells. 
But to assure my soul that none 
Shall ever wed with Marmion. 1 
Had fortune my last hope betray'd 
This packet, to the King convey'd, 
Had given him to the headsman's stroke, 
Although my heart that instant broke. — 
Now, men of death, work forth your will, 
For I can suffer, and be still ; 
And come he slow, or come he fast, 
It is but Death who comes at last. 

XXXI. 

" Yet dread me, from my living tomb, 
Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome ! 
If Marmion' s late remorse should wake, 
Full soon such vengeance will he take, 
That you shall wish the fiery Dane 
Had rather been your guest again. 
Behind, a darker hour ascends ! 
The altars quake, the crosier bends, 
The ire of a despotic King 

1 [The MS. adds — " His schemes reveal'd, his honor gone."] 



9 6 MARMION. [canto ii. 

Rides forth upon destruction's wing ; 
Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep, 
Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep ; 
Some traveller then shall find my bones 
Whitening amid disjointed stones, 
And, ignorant of priests' cruelty, 1 
Marvel such relics here should be." 

XXXII. 
Fix'd was her look, and stern her air : 
Back from her shoulders stream 'd her hair ; 
The locks, that wont her brow to shade, 
Stared up erectly from her head ; % 
Her figure seem'd to rise more high ; 
Her voice, despair's wild energy 
Had given a tone of prophecy. 
AppalPd the astonish'd conclave sate ; 
With stupid eyes, the men of fate 
Gazed on the light inspired form, 
And listen'd for the avenging storm ; 
The judges felt the victim's dread ; 
No hand was moved, no word was said, 
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given, 
Raising his sightless balls to heaven : — 
" Sister, let thy sorrows cease ; 
Sinful brother, part in peace ! " 3 

From that dire dungeon, place of doom, 

Of execution too, and tomb, 
Paced forth the judges three ; 

Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell 

1 [MS. — " And, witless of priests' cruelty."] 

2 [MS. — "Stared up ( as P irin S } from her head."] 

( uncurling ) 

3 [See note on stanza xxv., p. 91.] 



canto II.] THE CONVENT. gy 

The butcher-work that there befell, 
When they had glided from the cell 
Of sin and misery. 

XXXIII. 
An hundred winding steps convey 
That conclave to the upper day ; 1 
But, ere they breathed the fresher air, 
They heard the shriekings of despair, 

And many a stifled groan : 
With speed their upward way they take, 
(Such speed as age and fear can make,) 
And cross'd themselves for terror's sake, 

As hurrying, tottering on : 
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone, 2 
They seem'd to hear a dying groan, 
And bade the passing knell to toll 3 
For welfare of a parting soul. 
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung ; 
To Warkworth cell the echoes roll'd, 
His beads the wakeful hermit told, 
The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
But slept ere half a prayer he said ; 
So far was heard the mighty knell, 

1 [MS. — " From that dark' penance vault to-day."] 

2 [MS. — " That night amid the vesper's swell, 

They thought they heard Constantia's yell, 
And bade the mighty bell to toll, 
For welfare of a passing soul."] 

3 [" The sound of the knell that was rung for the parting soul of this victim of 
seduction is described with great force and solemnity." — Jeffrey. 

"The whole of this trial and doom presents a high-wrought scene of horror, 
which, at the close, rises almost to too great a pitch." — Scot's Mag., March, 
1808.] 



gS M ARM ION. [CANTO II. 

The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell, 
Spread his broad nostril to the wind, 
Listed before, aside, behind, 
Then couch'd him down beside the hind, 
And quaked among the mountain fern, 
To hear that sound, so dull and stern. 



MARMION. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 

TO WILLIAM ERSKINE, ESQ. 1 

Askestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

Like April morning clouds, that pass, 
With varying shadow, o'er the grass, 
And imitate, on field and furrow, 
Life's checker'd scene of joy and sorrow ; 
Like streamlet of the mountain north, 
Now in a torrent racing forth, 
Now winding slow its silver train, 
And almost slumbering on the plain; 
Like breezes of the autumn day, 
Whose voice inconstant dies away, 
And ever swells again as fast, 
When the ear deems its murmur past ; 
Thus various, my romantic theme 
Flits, winds, or sinks, a morning dream. 
Yet pleased, our eye pursues the trace 
Of Light and Shade's inconstant race ; 
Pleased, views the rivulet afar, 

1 [William Erskine, Esq., advocate, Sheriff-depute of the Orkneys, became a 
Judge of the Court of Session by the title of Lord Kinnedder, and died at 
Edinburgh in August, 1822. He had been from early youth the most intimate 
of the Poet's friends, and his chief confidant and adviser as to all literary mat- 
ters. See a notice of his life and character by the late Mr. Hay Donaldson, to 
which Sir Walter Scott contributed several paragraphs. — ED.] 



•OO MARM/ON. 



Weaving its maze irregular ; 
And pleased, we listen as the breeze 
Heaves its wild sigh through Autumn trees ; 
Then, wild as cloud, or stream, or gale, 
Flow on, flow unconfined, my Tale ! 

Need I to thee, dear Erskine, tell 

I love the license all too well, 

In sounds now lowly, and now strong, 

To raise the desultory song ? — l 

Oft, when 'mid such capricious chime, 

Some transient fit of lofty rhyme 

To thy kind judgment seem'd excuse 

For many an error of the muse, 

Oft hast thou said, " If, still mis-spent, 

Thine hours to poetry are lent, 2 

Go, and to tame thy wandering course, 

Quaff from the fountain at the source ; 

Approach those masters, o'er whose tomb 

Immortal laurels ever bloom : 

Instructive of the feebler bard, 

Still from the grave their voice is heard ; 

From them, and from the paths they show'd, 

Choose honor'd guide and practised road ; 

Nor ramble on through brake and maze, 

With harpers rude of barbarous days. 

" Or deem'st thou not our later time 3 
Yields topic meet for classic rhyme ? 

1 [MS. — " With sound now lowly, and now higher, 

Irregular to wake the lyre."] 

2 [MS. — " Thine hours to thriftless rhyme are lent."] 

3 [MS. — " Dost thou not deem our later day 

Yields topic meet for classic lay? 
Hast thou no elegiac tone 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. iqi 

Hast thou no elegiac verse 

For Brunswick's venerable hearse ? 

What ! not a line, a tear, a sigh, 

When valor bleeds for liberty? — 

Oh, hero of that glorious time, 

When, with unrivall'd light sublime, — 

Though martial Austria, and though all 

The might of Russia, and the Gaul, 

Though banded Europe stood her foes — 

The star of Brandenburgh arose ! 

Thou couldst not live to see her beam 

For ever quench'd in Jena's stream. 

Lamented Chief ! — it was not given 

To thee to change the doom of Heaven, 

And crush that dragon in its birth, 

Predestined scourge of guilty earth. 

Lamented Chief ! — not thine the power, 

To save in that presumptuous hour, 

When Prussia hurried to the field, 

And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield ! 

Valor and skill 'twas thine to try, 

And, tried in vain, 'twas thine to die. 

Ill had it seem'd thy silver hair 

The last, the bitterest pang to share, 

For princedoms reft, and scutcheons riven, 

And birthrights to usurpers given ; 

Thy land's, thy children's wrongs to feel, 

And witness woes thou could'st not heal ! 

On thee relenting Heaven bestows 

To join that universal moan, 
Which mingled with the battle's yell, 
Where venerable Brunswick fell ? — 
What ! not a verse, a tear, a sigh, 
When valor bleeds for liberty ? "] 



102 MARMION. 



For honor'd life an honor'd close ; 1 
And when revolves, in time's sure change, 
The hour of Germany's revenge, 
When, breathing fury for her sake, 
Some new Arminius shall awake, 
Her champion, ere he strike, shall come 
To whet his sword on Brunswick's tomb. 

" Or of the Red-Cross hero 2 teach 
Dauntless in dungeon as on breach : 
Alike to him the sea, the shore, 
The brand, the bridle, or the oar : 
Alike to him the war that calls 
Its votaries to the shatter'd walls, 
Which the grim Turk, besmear' d with blood, 
Against the Invincible made good ; 
Or that, whose thundering voice could wake 
The silence of the polar lake, 
When stubborn Russ and metal'd Swede, 
On the warp'd wave their death-game play'd ; 
Or that, where Vengeance and Affright 

1 [MS. — " For honor'd life an honor'd close — 

The boon which falling heroes crave, 
A soldier's death, a warrior's grave. 
Or if, with more exulting swell, 
Of conquering chiefs thou lovest to tell, 
Give to the harp an unheard strain, 
And sing the triumphs of the main — 
Of him the Red-Cross hero teach, 
Dauntless on Acre's bloody breach, 
And, scorner of tyrannic power, 
As dauntless in the Temple's tower; 
Alike to him the sea, the shore, 
The brand, the bridle, or the oar, 
The general's eye, the pilot's art, 
The soldier's arm, the sailor's heart, 
Or if to touch such chord be thine," &c.] 

2 [Sir Sidney Smith.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 



103 



Howl'd round the father of the fight, 
Who snatch'd, on Alexandria's sand, 
The conqueror's wreath with dying hand. 1 

" Or, if to touch such. chord be thine, 
Restore the ancient tragic line, 
And emulate the notes that rung 
From the wild harp, which silent hung 
By silver Avon's holy shore, 
Till twice an hundred years roll'd o'er ; 
When she, the bold enchantress, 2 came, 
With fearless hand and heart on flame ! 
From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, 
And swept it with a kindred measure, 
Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove 
With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, 
Awakening at the inspired strain, 
Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again." 

Thy friendship thus thy judgment wronging, 
With praises not to me belonging, 
In task more meet for mightiest powers, 
Wouldst thou engage my thriftless hours. 
But say, my Erskine, hast thou weigh'd 
That secret power by all obey'd, 
Which warps not less the passive mind, 
Its source conceal'd or undefined ; 
Whether an impulse, that has birth 
Soon as the infant wakes on earth, 
One with our feelings and our powers, 
And rather part of us than ours ; 
Or whether fitlier term'd the sway 
Of habit, form'd in early day ? 

1 [Sir Ralph Abercromby.] 2 [Joanna Baillie.] 



104 



MARMION. 



Howe'er derived, its force confest 
Rules with despotic sway the breast, 
And drags us on by viewless chain, 
While taste and reason plead in vain. 1 
Look east, and ask the Belgian why, 
Beneath Batavia's sultry sky, 
He seeks not eager to inhale 
The freshness of the mountain gale, 
Content to rear his whiten'd wall 
Beside the dang and dull canal ? 
He'll say, from youth he loved to see 
The white sail gliding by the tree. 
Or see yon weatherbeaten hind, 
Whose sluggish herds before him wind, 
Whose tatter'd plaid and rugged cheek 
His northern clime and kindred speak ; 
Through England's laughing meads he goes, 
And England's wealth around him flows ; 
Ask, if it would content him well, 
At ease in those gay plains to dwell, 

1 ["As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath, 
Receives the lurking principle of death ; 
The young disease, that must subdue at length, 
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength : 
So, cast and mingled with his very frame, 
The mind's disease, its RULING Passion came ; 
Each vital humor which should feed the whole, 
Soon flows to this, in body and in soul : 
Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head, 
As the mind opens, and its functions spread, 
Imagination plies her dangerous art, 
And pours it all upon the peccant part. 

" Nature its mother, Habit is its nurse ; 
Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worse ; 
Reason itself but gives it edge and power; 
As Heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour," &c. 

Pope's Essay on A/an.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO THIRD. 



105 



Where hedge-rows spread a verdant screen, 
And spires and forests intervene, 
And the neat cottage peeps between? 
No ! not for these will he exchange 
His dark Lochaber's boundless range ; 
Not for fair Devon's meads forsake 
Bennevis gray, and Garry's lake. 

Thus while I ape the measure wild 
Of tales that charm'd me yet a child, 
Rude though they be, still with the chime 
Return the thoughts of early time ; 
And feelings, roused in life's first day, 
Glow in the line, and prompt the lay. 
Then rise those crags, that mountain tower 
Which charm'd my fancy's wakening hour. 1 
Though no broad river swept along, 
To claim, perchance, heroic song ; 
Though sigh'd no groves in summer gale, 
To prompt of love a softer tale ; 
Though scarce a puny streamlet's speed 
Claim'd homage from a shepherd's reed ; 
Yet was poetic impulse given, 
By the green hill and clear blue heaven. 
It was a barren scene, and wild, 
Where naked cliffs were rudely piled ; 
But ever and anon between 
Lay velvet tufts of loveliest green ; 
And well the lonely infant knew 
Recesses where the wall-flower grew, 2 
And honey-suckle loved to crawl 

1 [MS. — " The lonely hill, the rocky tower, 

That caught attention's wakening hour."] 

2 MS. — " Recesses where the woodbine grew." 



106 MARMION. 



Up the low crag and ruin'd wall. 

I deem'd such nooks the sweetest shade 

The sun in all its round survey'd ; 

And still I thought that shatter' d tower x 

The mightiest work of human power ; 

And marvell'd as the aged hind 

With some strange tale bewitched my mind, 

Of forayers, who, with headlong force, 

Down from that strength had spurr'd their horse, 

Their southern rapine to renew, 

Far in the distant Cheviots blue, 

And, home returning, fill'd the hall 

With revel, wassel-rout, and brawl. 2 

Methought that still with trump and clang, 

The gateway's broken arches rang ; 

Methought grim features, seam'd with scars, 

Glared through the window's rusty bars, 

And ever, by the winter hearth, 

Old tales I heard of woe or mirth, 

Of lovers' slights, of ladies' charms, 

Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms ; 

Of patriot battles, won of old 

By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; 

Of later fields of feud and fight, 

When, pouring from their Highland height, 

The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, 

Had swept the scarlet ranks away. 

While stretch'd at length upon the floor, 3 

1 [Smailholm Tower, in Berwickshire, the scene of the Author's infancy, is 
situated about two miles from Dryburgh Abbey.] 

2 [The two next couplets are not in the MS.] 

3 [MS. — " While still with mimic hosts of shells, 

Again my sport the combat tells — 
Onward the Scottish Lion bore, 
The scatter'd Southron fled before."] 



INTRODUCTION- TO CANTO THIRD. YO j 

Again I fought each combat o'er, 
Pebbles and shells, in order laid, 
The mimic ranks of war display'd ; 
And onward still the Scottish Lion bore, 
And still the scattered Southron fled before. 1 

Still, with vain fondness, could I trace, 
Anew, each kind familiar face, 
That brighten'd at our evening fire ! 
From the thatch'd mansion's gray hair'd Sire, 2 
Wise without learning, plain and good, 
And sprung of Scotland's gentler blood ; 
Whose eye, in age, quick, clear, and keen, 
Show'd what in youth its glance had been ; 
Whose doom discording neighbors sought, 
Content with equity unbought ; 3 
To him the venerable Priest, 
Our frequent and familiar guest, 
Whose life and manners well could paint 
Alike the student and the saint ; 4 
Alas ! whose speech too oft I broke 
With gambol rude and timeless joke : 
For I was wayward, bold, and wild, 
A self-will'd imp, a grandame's child ; 

1 [See notes on The Eve of St. John in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iv. ; and 
the Author's Introduction to The Minstrelsy, vol. i. p. 101.] 

2 [Robert Scott of Sandyknows, the grandfather of the Poet.] 

3 Upon revising the Poem, it seems proper to mention that the lines 

" Whose doom discording neighbors sought, 
Content with equity unbought: " 

have been unconsciously borrowed from a passage in Dryden's beautiful epistle 
to John Driden of Chesterton. — 1808. Note to Second Edition. 

4 [MS. — "The student, gentleman, and saint." The reverend gentleman 
alluded to was Mr. John Martin, minister of Mertoun, in which parish Smail- 
holm Tower is situated.] 



108 MARM10N. 



But half a plague, and half a jest, 
Was still endured, beloved, caress'd. 

For me, thus nurtured, dost thou ask 
The classic poet's well-conn'd task? 
Nay, Erskine, nay — On the wild hill 
Let the wild heath-bell flourish still ; 
Cherish the tulip, prune the vine, 
But freely let the woodbine twine, 
And leave untrimm'd the eglantine : 
Nay, my friend, nay — Since oft thy praise 
Hath given fresh vigor to my lays ; 
Since oft thy judgment could refine 
My flatten'd thought, or cumbrous line ; 
Still kind, as is thy wont, attend, 
And in the minstrel spare the friend. 
Though wild as cloud, as stream, as gale, 
Flow forth, flow unrestrain'd, my Tale ! 



©atrtxr gftirtf. 

THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 

I. 

The livelong day Lord Marmion rode ; 
The mountain path the Palmer show'd 
By glen and streamlet winded still, 
Where stunted birches hid the rill. 
They might not choose the lowland road, 1 
For the Merse forayers were abroad, 
Who, fired with hate and thirst of prey, 
Had scarcely fail'd to bar their way. 
Oft on the trampling band, from crown 
Of some tall cliff, the deer look'd down j 
On wing of jet, from his repose 
In the deep heath, the black-cock rose ; 
Sprung from the gorse the timid roe, 
Nor waited for the bending bow ; 
And when the stony path began, 
By which the naked peak they wan, 
Up flew the snowy ptarmigan. 
The noon had long been pass'd before 
They gain'd the height of Lammermoor ; 2 
Thence winding down the northern way, 

1 [MS. — " They might not choose the easier road, 

For many a forayer was abroad."] 

2 [See notes to " The Bride of Lammermoor." Waverley Novels, vols. xiii. 
and xiv.l 



IIO MARMION. [canto in. 

Before them, at the close of day, 
Old Gifford's towers and hamlet lay. ] 

II. 

No summons calls them to the tower, 

To spend the hospitable hour. 

To Scotland's camp the Lord was gone ; 

His cautious dame, in bower alone, 

Dreaded her castle to unclose, 

So late, to unknown friends or foes. 

On through the hamlet as they paced, 

Before a porch, whose front was graced 

With bush and flagon trimly placed, 
Lord Marmion drew his rein : 

The yillage inn seem'd large, though rude ; 2 

Its cheerful fire and hearty food 
Might well relieve his train. 

1 [The village of Gifford lies about four miles from Haddington ; close to it 
is Yester House, the seat of the Marquis of Tweeddale, and a little farther up 
the stream, which descends from the hills of Lammermoor, are the remains of 
the old castle of the family.] 

2 The accommodations of a Scottish hostelrie, or inn, in the 16th century, 
maybe collected from Dunbar's admirable tale of " The Friars of Berwick." 
Simon Lawder, " the gay ostlier," seems to have lived very comfortably ; and 
his wife decorated her person with a scarlet kirtle, and a belt of silk and silver, 
and rings upon her fingers ; and feasted her paramour with rabbits, capons, 
partridges, and Bourdeaux wine. At least, if the Scottish inns were not good, 
it was not for want of encouragement from the Legislature ; who, so early as 
the reign of James I., not only enacted that in all boroughs and fairs there be 
hostellaries, having stables and chambers, and provision for man and horse, 
but by another statute, ordained that no man, travelling on horse or foot, 
should presume to lodge anywhere except in these hostellaries ; and that no 
person, save innkeepers, should receive such travellers, under the penalty of 
forty shillings, for exercising such hospitality* But in spite of these provident 
enactments, the Scottish hostels are but indifferent, and strangers continue to 
find reception in the houses of individuals. 

* James I., Parliament I., cap. 24; Parliament III., cap. 56. 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN. T 1 1 

Down from their seats the horsemen sprung, 
With jingling spurs the court-yard rung ; 
They bind their horses to the stall, 
For forage, food, and firing call, 
And various clamor fills the hall : 
Weighing the labor with the cost, 
Toils everywhere the bustling host. 

III. 

Soon, by the chimney's merry blaze, 
Through the rude hostel might you gaze ; 
Might see, where, in dark nook aloof, 
The rafters of the sooty roof 

Bore wealth of winter cheer ; 
Of sea-fowl dried, and solands store, 
And gammons of the tusky boar, 

And savory haunch of deer. 
The chimney arch projected wide ; 
Above, around it, and beside, 

Were tools for housewives' hand ; 
Nor wanted, in that martial day, 
The implements of Scottish fray, 

The buckler, lance, and brand. 
Beneath its shade, the place of state, 
On oaken settle Marmion sate, 
And view'd around the blazing hearth. 
His followers mix in noisy mirth ; 
Whom with brown ale, in jolly tide, 
From ancient vessels ranged aside, 
Full actively their host supplied. 

IV. 

Theirs was the glee of martial breast, 
And laughter theirs at little jest; 



112 MARMION. [canto in. 

And oft Lord Marmion deign'd to aid, 
And mingle in the mirth they made ; 
For though, with men of high degree, 
The proudest of the proud was he, 
Yet, train'd in camps, he knew the art 
To win the soldier's hardy heart. 
They love a captain to obey, 
Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May ; 
With open hand, and brow as free, 
Lover of wine and minstrelsy ; 
Ever the first to scale a tower, 
As venturous in a lady's bower : — 
Such buxom chief shall lead his host 
From India's fires to Zembla's frost. 

V. 

Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 

Right opposite the Palmer stood ; 
His thin dark visage seen but half, 

Half hidden by his hood. 
Still fix'd on Marmion was his look, 
Which he, who ill such gaze could brook, 

Strove by a frown to quell ; 
But not for that, though more than once 
Full met their stern encountering glance, 1 

The Palmer's visage fell. 

VI. 

By fits less frequent from the crowd 
Was heard the burst of laughter loud ; 
For still, as squire and archer stared 
On that dark face and matted beard, 

1 [MS. — " Full met their eyes' encountering glance."] 




Resting upon his pilgrim staff, 
Right opposite the Palmer stood." 

Canto iii. 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN ! I3 

Their glee and game declined. 
All gazed at length in silence drear 
Unbroke, save when in comrade's ear 
Some yeoman wondering in his fear, 

Thus whispered forth his mind : — 
" Saint Mary ! saw'st thou e'er such sight? 
How pale his cheek, his eye how bright, 
Whene'er the firebrand's fickle light 

Glances beneath his cowl ! 
Full on our Lord he sets his eye ; 
For his best palfrey, would not I 

Endure that sullen scowl." 

VII. 

But Marmion, as to chase the awe 

Which thus had quell'd their hearts, who saw 

The ever-varying fire-light show 

That figure stern and face of woe, 

Now call'd upon a squire : — 
" Fitz-Eustace, know'st thou not some lay, 
To speed the lingering night away? 

We slumber by the fire." — 

VIII. 

" So please you," thus the youth rejoin'd, 
" Our choicest minstrel's left behind. 
Ill may we hope to please your ear, 
Accustom'd Constant's strains to hear. 
The harp full deftly can he strike, 
And wake the lover's lute alike ; 
To dear Saint Valentine, no thrush 
Sings livelier from a spring-tide bush, 
No nightingale her love-lorn tune 



1 14 M ARM ION. [canto hi. 

More sweetly warbles to the moon. 
Woe to the cause, whate'er it be, 
Detains from us his melody, 
Lavish'd on rocks, and billows stern, 
Or duller monks of Lindisfarne. 
Now must I venture as I may, 
To sing his favorite roundelay." 

IX. 

A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, 

The air he chose was wild and sad ; 

Such have I heard, in Scottish land, 

Rise from the busy harvest band, 

When falls before the mountaineer, 

On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. 

Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, 

Now a wild chorus swells the song : 

Oft have I listen' d, and stood still, 

As it came soften'd up the hill, 

And deem'd it the lament of men 

Who languished for their native glen ; 

And thought how sad would be such sound, 

On Susquehanna's swampy ground, 

Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, 

Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, 

Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, 

Recall'd fair Scotland's hills again ! 

X. 

Hong. 
Where shall the lover rest, 

Whom the fates sever 
From his true maiden's breast, 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN. lY ^ 

Parted for ever? 
Where, through groves deep and high, 

Sounds the far billow, 
Where early violets die, 

Under the willow. 



CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow, 

There, through the summer day, 

Cool streams are laving ; 
There, while the tempests sway, 

Scarce are boughs waving ; 
There, thy rest shalt thou take, 

Parted for ever, 
Never again to wake, 

Never, O never ! 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never ! 

XL 

Where shall the traitor rest, 

He, the deceiver, 
Who could win maiden's breast, 

Ruin, and leave her? 
In the lost battle, 

Borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle 

With groans of the dying. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. 



Il6 MARMION. [canto m. 

Her wing shall the eagle flap 

O'er the false-hearted ; 
His warm blood the wolf shall lap, 

Ere life be parted. 
Shame and dishonor sit 

By his grave ever ; 
Blessing shall hallow it, — 

Never, O never. 

CHORUS. 

Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never ! 

XII. 

It ceased, the melancholy sound ; 
And silence sunk on all around. 
The air was sad ; but sadder still 

It fell on Marmion's ear, 
And plain'd as if disgrace and ill, 

And shameful death, were near. 
He drew his mantle past his face, 

Between it and the band, 
And rested with his head a space, 

Reclining on his hand. 
His thoughts I scan not ; but I ween, 
That, could their import have been seen, 
The meanest groom in all the hall, 
That e'er tied courser to a stall, 
Would scarce have wished to be their prey, 
For Lutterward and Fontenaye. 

XIII. 

High minds, of native pride and force, 
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse ! 
Fear, for their scourge, mean villains have, 



canto III.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN 1 17 

Thou art the torturer of the brave ! 
Yet fatal strength they boast to steel 
Their minds to bear the wounds they feel, 
Even while they writhe beneath the smart 
Of civil conflict in the heart. 
For soon Lord Marmion raised his head, 
And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, — 
" Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, 
Seem'd in mine ear a death-peal rung, 
Such as in nunneries they toll 
For some departing sister's soul? 

Say, what may this portend ? " — 
Then first the Palmer silence broke, 
(The livelong day he had not spoke,) 

" The death of a dear friend." l 

1 Among other omens to which faithful credit is given among the Scottish 
peasantry, is what is called the " dead-bell," explained by my friend James 
Hogg, to be that tinkling in the ear, which the country people regard as the 
secret intelligence of some friend's decease. He tell a story to the purpose in 
the " Mountain Bard," p. 26. 

[" O lady, 'tis dark, an' I heard the dead-bell ! 
An' I darena gae yonder for gowd nor fee." 
" By the dead-bell is meant a tinkling in the ears, which our peasantry in the 
country regard as a secret intelligence of some friend's decease. Thus this 
natural occurrence strikes many with a superstitious awe. This reminds me of 
a trifling anecdote, which I will here relate as an instance : — Our two servant- 
girls agreed to go an errand of their own, one night after supper, to a consider- 
able distance, from which I strove to persuade them, but could not prevail. So, 
after going to the apartment where I slept, I took a drinking-glass, and, coming 
close to the back of the door, made two or three sweeps round the lips of the 
glass with my finger, which caused a loud shrill sound. I then overheard the 
following dialogue:— ' B. Ah, mercy! the dead-bell went through my head 
just now with such a knell as I never heard.' — '/. I heard it too.' — 'B. Did 
you indeed? That is remarkable. I never knew of two hearing it at the same 
time before.' — ' /. We will not go to Midgehop to-night.' — ' B. I would not 
go for all the world. I shall warrant it is my poor brother Wat ; who knows 
what these wild Irishes may have done to him?'" — HOGG'S Mountain Bard, 
3d Edit., p. 31-2.] 



1 1 8 MARMION. [canto hi. 

XIV. 
Marmion, whose steady heart and eye 
Ne'er changed in worst extremity ; 
Marmion, whose soul could scantly brook, 
Even from his King, a haughty look ; 1 
Whose accent of command controll'd, 
In camps, the boldest of the bold — 
Thought, look, and utterance fail'd him now 
Fall'n was his glance, and flush'd his brow : 

For either in the tone, 
Or something in the Palmer's look, 
So full upon his conscience strook, 

That answer he found none. 
Thus oft it haps, that when within 
They shrink at sense of secret sin, 

A feather daunts the brave ; 
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise, 
And proudest princes veil their eyes 

Before their meanest slave. 

XV. 

Well might he falter ! — By his aid 
Was Constance Beverley betray'd. 
Not that he augur'd of the doom, 
Which on the living closed the tomb : 
But, tired to hear the desperate maid 2 
Threaten by turns, beseech, upbraid ; 
And wroth, because, in wild despair, 3 

1 TMS. — " Marmion, whose pride 1 ,, , , 

L r could never brook, 

Whose haughty soul ) 

Even from his King, a scornful look."] 

2 [MS. — " But tired to hear the furious maid."] 

3 [MS. — " Incensed, because in wild despair."] 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN Y ig 

She practised on the life of Clare ; 

Its fugitive the Church he gave, 

Though not a victim, but a slave ; 

And deem'd restraint in convent strange 

Would hide her wrongs, and her revenge, 

Himself, proud Henry's favorite peer, 

Held Romish thunders idle fear, 

Secure his pardon he might hold, 

For some slight mulct of penance-gold. 

Thus judging, he gave secret way, 

When the stern priests surprised their prey. 

His train but deem'd the favorite page 

Was left behind, to spare his age ; 

Or other if they deem'd, none dared 

To mutter what he thought and heard : 

Woe to the vassal, who durst pry 

Into Lord Marmion's privacy ! 



XVI. 

His conscience slept — he deem'd her well, 
And safe secured in distant cell ; 
But, vvaken'd by her favorite lay, 
And that strange Palmer's boding say, 
That fell so ominous and drear, 
Full on the object of his fear, 
To aid remorse's venom'd throes, 
Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose ; 
And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd, 
All lovely on his soul return'd ; 
Lovely as when, at treacherous call, 
She left her convent's peaceful wall, 
Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute, 
Dreading alike escape, pursuit, 



120 MARMION. [canto in. 

Till love, victorious o'er alarms, 
Hid fears and blushes in his arms. 

XVII. 

" Alas ! " he thought, " how changed, that mien ! 

How changed these timid looks have been, 1 

Since years of guilt, and of disguise, 

Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes ! 

No more of virgin terror speaks 

The blood that mantles in her cheeks ; 

Pierce and unfeminine, are there, 

Frenzy for joy, for grief despair ; 

And I the cause — for whom were given 

Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven ! — 

Would," thought he, as the picture grows, 

" I on its stalk had left the rose ! 

Oh, why should man's success remove 

The very charms that wake his love ! — 

Her convent's peaceful solitude 

Is now a prison harsh and rude ; 

And, pent within the narrow cell, 

How will her spirit chafe and swell ! 

How brook the stern monastic laws ! 

The penance how — and I the cause ! — 

Vigil, and scourge — perchance even worse ! " — 

And twice he rose to cry, "To horse ! " 

And twice his Sovereign's mandate came, 

1 [The MS. reads : — 

" Since fiercer passions wild and high, 
Have flush'd her cheek with deeper dye, 
And years of guilt, and of disguise, 
Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes, 
And I the cause — for whom were given 
Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven! — 
How will her ardent spirit swell, 
And chafe within the narrow cell ! "] 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR lIVA r . 12I 

Like damp upon a kindling flame ; 
And twice he thought, " Gave I not charge 
She should be safe, though not at large ? 
They durst not, for their island, shred 
One golden ringlet from her head." 

XVIII. 

While thus in Marmion's bosom strove 

Repentance and reviving love, 

Like whirlwinds, whose contending sway 

I've seen Loch Vennachar obey, 

Their Host the Palmer's speech had heard, 

And, talkative, took up the word : 

" Ay, reverend Pilgrim, you, who stray 
From Scotland's simple land away, 1 

To visit realms afar, 
Full often learn the art to know 
Of future weal, or future woe, 

By word, or sign, or star ; 
Yet might a knight his fortune hear, 
If, knight-like, he despises fear, 
Not far from hence ; — if fathers old 
Aright our hamlet legend told." — 
These broken words the menials move, 
(For marvels still the vulgar love,) 
And, Marmion giving license cold, 
His tale the host thus gladly told : — 

XIX. 

(Lbc post's (Talc. 

" A Clerk could tell what years have flown 
Since Alexander fill'd our throne, 

1 [MS. — " From this plain simple land away."] 



122 MARM10N. [CANTO III. 

(Third monarch of that warlike name,) 
And eke the time when here he came 
To seek Sir Hugo, then our lord : 
A braver never drew a sword ; 
A wiser never, at the hour 
Of midnight, spoke the word of power : 
The same, whom ancient records call 
The founder of the Goblin-Hall. 1 
I would, Sir Knight, your longer stay- 
Gave you that cavern to survey. 
Of lofty roof, and ample size, 



1 A vaulted hall under the ancient castle of Gifford, or Yester (for it bears 
either name indifferently), the construction of which has from a very remote 
period been ascribed to magic. The statistical account of the Parish of Gar- 
vald and Baro, gives the following account of the present state of this castle 
and apartment: — " Upon a peninsula, formed by the waters of Hopes on the 
east, and a large rivulet on the west, stands the ancient castle of Yester. Sir 
David Dalrymple, in his Annals, relates that ' Hugh Gifford de Yester died in 
1267 ; that in his castle there was a capacious cavern, formed by magical art, 
and called in the country Bo-Hall, i.e., Hobgoblin Hall.' A stair of twenty-four 
steps led down to this apartment, which is a large and spacious hall, with an 
arched roof; and though it hath stood for so many centuries, and been exposed 
to the external air for a period of fifty or sixty years, it is still as firm and entire 
as if it had only stood a few years. From the floor of this hall, another stair 
of thirty-six steps leads down to a pit which hath a communication with Hopes- 
water. A great part of the walls of this large and ancient castle are still stand- 
ing. There is a tradition that the castle of Yester was the last fortification, in 
this country, that surrendered to General Gray, sent into Scotland by Protector 
Somerset." Statistical Account, vol. xiii. — I have only to add, that in 1737, 
the Goblin Hall was tenanted by the Marquis of Tweedale's falconer, as I learn 
from a poem by Boyse, entitled " Retirement," written upon visiting Yester. It 
is now rendered inaccessible by the fall of the stair. 

Sir David Dalrymple's authority for the anecdote is in Fordun, whose words 
are, — A.D. MCCLXVII. Hugo Giffard de Yester moritur ; cujus castrum, vel 
saltern caveam, et dongionem, arte dcemonica antiques relationes ferunt fabrifac- 
tas : nam ibidem Jiabetur mirabilis specus subtcrrancus, opere mirifico construc- 
tus, magno terrarum spatio protelatus, qui communiter ^0-|)aII appellatus est!' 
Lib. X. cap. 21. — Sir David conjectures that Hugh de Gifford must either 
have been a very wise man, or a great oppressor. 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN. i2 $ 

Beneath the castle deep it lies : 
To hew the living rock profound, 
The floor to pave, the arch to round, 
There never toil'd a mortal arm, 
It all was wrought by word and charm ; 
And I have heard my grandsire say, 
That the wild clamor and affray 
Of those dread artisans of hell, 
Who labor'd under Hugo's spell, 
Sounded as loud as ocean's war, 
Among the caverns of Dunbar. 

XX. 

" The King Lord Gifford's castle sought, 
Deep laboring with uncertain thought ; 
Even then he mustered all his host, 
To meet upon the western coast ; 
For Norse and Danish galleys plied 
Their oars within the Frith of Clyde. 
There floated Haco's banner trim, 1 
Above Norweyan warriors grim. 2 
Savage of heart, and large of limb ; 
Threatening both continent and isle, 
Bute, Arran, Cunninghame, and Kyle. 
Lord Gifford, deep beneath the ground, 
Heard Alexander's bugle sound, 
And tarried not his garb to change, 

1 In 1263 Haco, King of Norway, came into the Frith of Clyde with a pow- 
erful armament, and made a descent at Largs, in Ayrshire. Here he was en- 
countered and defeated, on the 2d October, by Alexander III. Haco retreated 
to Orkney, where he died soon after this disgrace to his arms. There are still 
existing, near the place of battle, many barrows, some of which, having been 
opened, were found, as usual, to contain bones and urns. 

2 [MS. — " There floated Haco's banner grim, 

O'er fierce of heart, and large of limb."] 



1 24 MARMION. [canto in. 

But, in his wizard habit strange, 1 

Came forth, — a quaint and fearful sight ; 

His mantle lined with fox-skins white ; 

His high and wrinkled forehead bore 

A pointed cap, such as of yore 

Clerks say that Pharaoh's Mag;i wore : 

His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell, 

Upon his breast a pentacle ; ~ 

His zone, of virgin parchment thin, 

Or, as some tell, of dead man's skin, 

Bore many a planetary sign, 

Combust, and retrograde, and trine ; 3 

And in his hand he held prepared, 

A naked sword without a guard. 

XXI. 

" Dire dealings with the fiendish race 
Had mark'd strange lines upon his face ; 
Vigil and fast had worn him grim, 
His eyesight dazzled seem'd and dim, 

1 " Magicians, as is well known, were very curious in the choice and form of 
their vestments. Their caps are oval, or like pyramids, with lappets on each 
side, and fur within. Their gowns are long and furred with fox-skins, under 
which they have a linen garment reaching to the knee. Their girdles are three 
inches broad, and have many cabalistical names, with crosses, trines.and circles 
inscribed on them. Their shoes should be of new russet leather, with a cross 
cut upon them. Their knives are dagger-fashion ; and their swords have 
neither guard nor scabbard." — See these, and many other particulars, in the 
Discourse concerning Devils and Spirits, annexed to REGINALD SCOT'S Dis- 
covery of Witchcraft, edition 1665. 

2 " A pentacle is a piece of fine linen, folded with five corners, according to 
the five senses, and suitably inscribed with characters. This the magician 
extends towards the spirits which he invokes, when they are stubborn and rebel- 
lious, and refuse to be comformable unto the ceremonies and rites of magic." — 
See the Discourses, &c, above mentioned, p. 66. 

3 [MS. — " Bare many a character and sign 

Of planets retrograde and trine."] 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN 125 

As one unused to upper day ; 

Even his own menials with dismay 

Beheld, Sir Knight, the grisly Sire, 

In his unwonted wild attire ; 

Unwonted, for traditions run, 

He seldom thus beheld the sun. — 

1 1 know,' he said, — his voice was hoarse, 

And broken seem'd its hollow force, — 

' I know the cause, although untold, 

Why the King seeks his vassal's hold : 

Vainly from me my liege would know 

His kingdom's future weal or woe ; 

But yet, if strong his arm and heart, 

His courage may do more than art. 

XXII. 
" ' Of middle air the demons proud, 
Who ride upon the racking cloud, 
Can read, in fix'd or wandering star, 
The issue of events afar ; 
But still their sullen aid withhold, 
Save when by mightier force controll'd. 
Such late I summon'd to my hall ; 
And though so potent was the call, 
That scarce the deepest nook of hell 
I deem'd a refuge from the spell, 
Yet, obstinate in silence still, 
The haughty demon mocks my skill. 
But thou, — who little know'st thy might, 
As born upon that blessed night 1 

1 It is a popular article of faith that those who are born on Christmas or 
Good Friday have the power of seeing spirits, and even of commanding them. 
The Spaniards imputed the haggard and downcast looks of their Philip II. to 
the disagreeable visions to which this privilege subjected him. 



126 MARMION. [canto ill. 

When yawning graves, and dying groan, 

Proclaim'd hell's empire overthrown, — 

With untaught valor shalt compel 

Response denied to magic spell.' — x 

' Gramercy,' quoth our Monarch free, 

* Place him but front to front with me, 

And, by this good and honor'd brand, 

The gift of Cceur-de-Lion's hand, 

Soothly I swear, that, tide what tide, 

The demon shall a buffet bide.' — 2 

His bearing bold the wizard view'd, 

And thus, well pleased, his speech renew'd : — 

' There spoke the blood of Malcolm ! — mark : 

Forth pacing hence, at midnight dark, 

The rampart seek, whose circling crown 3 

Crests the ascent of yonder down : 

A southern entrance shalt thou find ; 

There halt, and there thy bugle wind, 

And trust thine elfin foe to see, 

In guise of thy worst enemy : 

Couch then thy lance, and spur thy steed 

Upon him ! and Saint George to speed ! 

If he go down, thou soon shalt know 

Whate'er these airy sprites can show : — 

If thy heart fail thee in the strife, 

I am no warrant for thy life.' 

1 [MS. — " With untaught valor mayst compel 

What is denied to magic spell."] 

2 [MS. — " Bicker and buffet he shall bide."] 

[MS. -"Seek i that i old \ cam P which i as a crown."] 
yon ) ( trench that ) 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN I2 ; 

XXIII. 

" Soon as the midnight bell did ring, 
Alone, and arm'd, forth rode the King 1 
To that old camp's deserted round : 
Sir Knight, you well might mark the mound, 
Left hand the town, — the Pictish race, 
The trench, long since, in blood did trace ; 
The moor around is brown and bare, 
The space within is green and fair. 
The spot our village children know, 
For there the earliest wild -flowers grow ; 
But woe betide the wandering wight, 
That treads its circle in the night ! 
The breadth across, a bowshot clear, 
Gives ample space for full career ; 
Opposed to the four points of heaven, 
By four deep gaps are entrance given. 
The southernmost our Monarch past, 2 
Halted, and blew a gallant blast ; 
And on the north, within the ring, 
Appear'd the form of England's King, 
Who then a thousand leagues afar, 
In Palestine waged holy war : 
Yet arms like England's did he wield, 
Alike the leopards in the shield, 
Alike his Syrian courser's frame, 
The rider's length of limb the same : 
Long afterwards did Scotland know, 
Fell Edward 3 was her deadliest foe. 



1 [MS. — " Alone, and arm'd rode forth the King 

To that encampment's haunted round."] 

2 [MS. — " The southern gate our monarch past."] 

3 Edward I., surnamed Longshanks. 



1 2 8 MARMION. [canto in. 

XXIV. 

" The vision made our Monarch start, 
But soon he mann'd his noble heart, 
And in the first career they ran, 
The Elfin Knight fell, horse and man ; 
Yet did a splinter of his lance 
Through Alexander's visor glance, 
And razed the skin — a puny wound. 
The King, light leaping to the ground, 
With naked blade his phantom foe 
Compell'd the future war to show. 
Of Largs he saw the glorious plain, 
Where still gigantic bones remain, 

Memorial of the Danish war ; 
Himself he saw, amid the field, 
On high his brandish'd war-axe wield, 

And strike proud Haco from his car, 
While all around the shadowy Kings 
Denmark's grim ravens cower'd their wings. 
'Tis said, that, in that awful night, 
Remoter visions met his sight, 
Foreshowing future conquest far, 1 
When our sons' sons wage northern war ; 
A royal city, tower and spire, 
Redden'd the midnight sky with fire, 
And shouting crews her navy bore, 
Triumphant, to the victor shore. 2 

1 [MS. — " To be fulfill'd in times afar, 

When our sons' sons wage northern war ; 
A royal city's towers and spires 
Redden'd the midnight sky with fires, 
And shouting crews her navy bore, 
Triumphant, from the vanquish'd shore."] 

2 [For an account of the expedition to Copenhagen in 1801, see Southey's 
Life of Nelson, chap, vii.] 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR J XX 139 

Such signs may learned clerks explain, 
They pass the wit of simple swain. 

XXV. 

" The joyful King turn'd home again, 
Headed his host, and quell'd the Dane ; 
But yearly, when return'd the night 
Of his strange combat with the sprite, 

His wound must bleed and smart ; 
Lord Gifford then would gibing say, 
' Bold as ye were, my liege, ye pay 

The penance of your start.' 
Long since, beneath Dunfermline's nave, 
King Alexander fills his grave, 

Our Lady give him rest ! 
Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
The Elfin Warrior doth wield, 

Upon the brown hill's breast ; l 
And many a knight hath proved his chance, 
In the charm'd ring to break a lance, 

But all have foully sped ; 
Save two, as legends tell, and they 
Were Wallace Wight and Gilbert Hay. — 

Gentles, my tale is said." 

XXVI. 

The quaighs 2 were deep, the liquor strong, 
And on the tale the veoman-thron"; 
Had made a comment sage and long, 

But Marmion gave a sign : 
And, with their lord, the squires retire ; 

1 See Appendix, Note H. 

2 A wooden cup, composed of staves hooped together. 



1 30 MARM10N. [canto hi. 

The rest around the hostel fire, 
Their drowsy limbs recline : 
For pillow, underneath each head, 
The quiver and the targe were laid. 
Deep slumbering on the hostel floor, 1 
Oppress'd with toil and ale, they snore : 
The dying flame, in fitful change, 
Threw on the group its shadows strange. 

XXVII. 

Apart, and nestling in the hay, 
Of a waste loft, Fitz-Eustace lay ; 
Scarce, by the pale moonlight, were seen 
The foldings of his mantle green : 
Lightly he dreamt, as youth will dream, 
Of sport by thicket, or by stream, 
Of hawk or hound, or ring or glove, 
Or, lighter yet, of lady's love. 
A cautious tread his slumber broke, 
And, close beside him, when he woke, 
In moonbeam half, and half in gloom, 
Stood a tall form, with nodding plume ; 
But, ere his dagger Eustace drew, 
His master Marmion's voice he knew. 2 

XXVIII. 
— " Fitz-Eustace ! rise, — I cannot rest ; 
Yon churl's wild legend haunts my breast, 
And graver thoughts have chafed my mood : 

1 [MS. — " Deep slumbering on the floor of clay, 

Oppress'd with toil and ale, they lay ; 

The dying flame, in fitful change, 

Threw on them lights and shadows strange."] 

2 [MS. — " But ere his dagger Eustace drew, 

It spoke — Lord Marmion's voice he knew."] 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN. I3I 

The air must cool my feverish blood ; 
And fain would I ride forth, to see 
The scene of elfin chivalry. 
Arise, and saddle me my steed ; 1 
And, gentle Eustace, take good heed 
Thou dost not rouse these drowsy slaves ; 
I would not, that the prating knaves 
Had cause for saying, o'er their ale, 
That I could credit such a tale." — 
Then softly down the steps they slid, 
Eustace the stable door undid, 
And, darkling, Marmion's steed array'd, 
While, whispering, thus the Baron said : 

XXIX. 

" Did'st never, good my youth, hear tell, 

That on the hour when I was born, 
Saint George, who graced my sire's chapelle, 
Down from his steed of marble fell, 

A weary wight forlorn ? 
The flattering chaplains all agree, 
The champion left his steed to me. 
I would, the omen's truth to show, 
That I could meet this Elfin Foe ! 2 
Blithe would I battle, for the right 
To ask one question at the sprite : — 
Vain thought ! for elves, if elves there be, 
An empty race, by fount or sea, 
To dashing waters dance and sing, 3 



1 [MS. — " Come down and saddle my steed."] 

2 [MS. — "I would, to prove the omen right, 

That I could meet this Elfin Knight ! "] 

3 [MS. — " Dance to the wild waves' murmuring."] 



132 MARM10N. [canto in. 

Or round the green oak wheel their ring." 
Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 
And from the hostel slowly rode. 

XXX. 

Fitz-Eustace follow'd him abroad, 
And mark'd him pace the village road, 

And listen'd to his horse's tramp, 
Till, by the lessening sound, 

He judged that of the Pictish camp 
Lord Marmion sought the round. 
Wonder it seem'd in the squire's eyes, 
That one, so wary held, and wise, — 
Of whom 'twas said, he scarce received 
For gospel, what the Church believed, — 

Should, stirr'd by idle tale, 
Ride forth in silence of the night, 
As hoping half to meet a sprite, 

Array 'd in plate and mail. 
For little did Fitz-Eustace know, 
That passions, in contending flow, 

Unfix the strongest mind ; 
Wearied from doubt to doubt to flee, 
We welcome fond credulity, 

Guide confident, though blind. 

XXXI. 

Little for this Fitz-Eustace cared, 
But, patient, waited till he heard, 
At distance, prick'd to utmost speed, 
The foot-tramp of a flying steed, 
Come town-ward rushing on ; 
First, dead, as if on turf it trode, 
Then, clattering on the village road, — 




"Thus speaking, he his steed bestrode, 
And from the hostel slowly rode." 

Canto iii. 29. 



canto in.] THE HOSTEL, OR INN. 133 

In other pace than forth he yode, 1 

Return'd Lord Marmion. 
Down hastily he sprung from selle, 
And, in his haste, wellnigh he fell ; 
To the squire's hand the rein he threw, 
And spoke no word as he withdrew : 
But yet the moonlight did betray, 
The falcon-crest was soil'd with clay ; 
And plainly might Fitz-Eustace see, 
By stains upon the charger's knee, 
And his left side, that on the moor 
He had not kept his footing sure. 
Long musing on these wondrous signs, 
At length to rest the squire reclines, 
Broken and short ; for still, between, 
Would dreams of terror intervene : 
Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark 
The first notes of the morning lark. 

1 Yode, used by old poets for went. 



MARMION. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 

JAMES SKENE, ESQ. 1 

Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest. 

An ancient Minstrel sagely said, 

" Where is the life which late we led? " 

That motley clown in Arden wood, 

Whom humorous Jacques with envy view'd, 

Not even that clown could amplify, 

On this trite text, so long as I. 

Eleven years we now may tell, 

Since we have known each other well ; 

Since, riding side by side, our hand 

First drew the voluntary brand ; 2 

And sure, through many a varied scene, 

Unkindness never came between. 

Away these winged years have flown, 

To join the mass of ages gone ; 

And though deep mark'd, like all below, 

With checker'd shades of joy and woe ; 

Though thou o'er realms and seas hast ranged, 

Mark'd cities lost, and empires changed, 

While here, at home, my narrower ken 

1 [James Skene, Esq., of Rubislaw, Aberdeenshire, was Cornet in the Royal 
Edinburgh Light Horse Volunteers ; and Sir Walter Scott was Quartermaster 
of the same corps.] 

2 [MS. — " Unsheath'd the voluntary brand."] 



136 



MARMION. 



Somewhat of manners saw. and men ; 

Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, 

Fever'd the progress of these years, 

Yet now, days, weeks, and months, but seem 

The recollection of a dream, 

So still we glide down to the sea 

Of fathomless eternity. 

Even now it scarcely seems a clay, 
Since first I tuned this idle lay ; 
A task so often thrown aside, 
When leisure graver cares denied, 
That now, November's dreary gale, 
Whose voice inspired my opening tale, 
That same November gale once more 
Whirls the dry leaves on Yarrow shore. 
Their vex'd boughs streaming to the sky, 
Once more our naked birches sigh, 
And Blackhouse heights, and Ettrick Pen, 
Have donn'd their wintry shrouds again : 
And mountain dark, and flooded mead, 1 
Bid us forsake the banks of Tweed. 
Earlier than wont along the sky, 
Mix'd with the rack, the snow mists fly ; 
The shepherd who, in summer sun, 
Had something of our envy won, 
As thou with pencil, I with pen, 
The features traced of hill and glen ; — 2 
He who, outstretch'd the livelong day, 
At ease among the heath-flowers lay, 
View'd the light clouds with vacant look, 

1 [MS. — "And noon-tide ?nist, and flooded mead."] 

2 [Various illustrations of the Poetry and Novels of Sir Walter Scott from 
designs by Mr. Skene, have since been published.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 



137 



Or slumber'd o'er his tatter'd book, 
Or idly busied him to guide 
His angle o'er the lessen'd tide ; — 
At midnight now, the snowy plain 
Finds sterner labor for the swain. 

When red hath set the beamless sun, 1 
Through heavy vapors dark and dun ; 
When the tired ploughman, dry and warm, 
Hears, half asleep, the rising storm 
Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain, 
Against the casement's tinkling pane ; 
The sounds that drive wild deer, and fox, 
To shelter in the brake and rocks, 
Are warnings which the shepherd ask 
To dismal and to dangerous task. 
Oft he looks forth, and hopes, in vain, 
The blast may sink in mellowing rain : 
Till, dark above, and white below," 2 
Decided drives the flaky snow, 
And forth the hardy swain must go. 
Long, with dejected look and whine, 
To leave the hearth his dogs repine ; 
Whistling and cheering them to aid, 
Around his back he wreathes the plaid : 
His flock he gathers, and he guides, 
To open downs, and mountain-sides, 
Where fiercest though the tempest blow, 
Least deeply lies the drift below, 
The blast, that whistles o'er the fells, 3 

1 [MS. — " When red hath set the evening sun, 

And loud winds speak the storm begun." 

2 [MS. — " Till thickly drives the flaky snow, 

And forth the hardy swain must go, 
While, with dejected look and whine," &c. 

3 [MS. — " The frozen blast that sweeps the fells."] 



138 M ARM I ON. 



Stiffens his locks to icicles ; 

Oft he looks back, while streaming far, 

His cottage window seems a star, 1 — 

Loses its feeble gleam, — and then 

Turns patient to the blast again, 

And, facing to the tempest's sweep, 

Drives through the gloom his lagging sheep. 

If fails his heart, if his limbs fail, 

Benumbing death is in the gale : 

His paths, his landmarks, all unknown, 

Close to the hut, no more his own, 

Close to the aid he sought in vain, 

The morn may find the stiffen 'd swain : 2 

The widow sees, at dawning pale, 

His orphans raise their feeble wail ; 

And, close beside him, in the snow, 

Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe, 

Couches upon his master's breast, 3 

And licks his cheek to break his rest. 



Who envies now the shepherd's lot, 
His healthy fare, his rural cot, 

1 [MS. — " His cottage window beams a star, — 

But soon he loses it, — and then 
Turns patient to his task again."] 

2 [MS. — " The morn shall find the stiffen'd swain : 

His widow sees, at morning pale, 
His children rise, and raise their wail."] 
I cannot help here mentioning that on the night in which these lines were 
written, suggested, as they were, by a sudden fall of snow, beginning after sunset, 
an unfortunate man perished exactly in the manner here described, and his body 
was next morning found close to his own house. The accident happened 
within five miles of the farm of Ashestiel. * 

[Compare the celebrated description of a man perishing in the snow, in 
Thomson's Winter^ 

3 [MS. — " Couches upon his frozen breast."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 



*39 



His summer couch by greenwood tree, 
His rustic kirn's l loud revelry, 
His native-hill notes, tuned on high, 
To Marion of the Blythesome eye ; 2 
His crook, his scrip, his oaten reed, 
And all Arcadia's solden creed ? 



o v 



Changes not so with us, my Skene, 
Of human life the varying scene ? 
Our youthful summer oft we see 3 
Dance by on wings of game and glee, 
While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
Against the winter of our age : 
As he, the ancient Chief of Troy, 
His manhood spent in peace and joy ; 
But Grecian fires, and loud alarms, 
Call'd ancient Priam forth to arms. 4 
Then happy those, since each must drain 
His share of pleasure, share of pain, — 
Then happy those, beloved of Heaven, 
To whom the mingled cup is given ; 
Whose lenient sorrows find relief, 
Whose joys are chasten'd by their grief. 
And such a lot, my Skene, was thine, 
When thou, of late, wert doom'd to twine,— 
Just when thy bridal hour was by, — 
The cypress with the myrtle tie. 

1 The Scottish Harvest-home. 

2 [MS. — " His native wild notes' melody, 

To Marion's blithely blinking eye."] 

3 [MS. — " Our youthful summer oft we see 

Dance by on wings of mirth and glee, 
While the dark storm reserves its rage, 
To crush the winter of our age."] 

4 [MS.— " Call'd forth his feeble age to arms."] 



140 M ARM ION. 



Just on thy bride her Sire had smiled, 1 
And bless'd the union of his child, 
When love must change its joyous cheer, 
And wipe affection's filial tear. 
• Nor did the actions next his end, 2 
Speak more the father than the friend : 
Scarce had lamented Forbes 3 paid 
The tribute to his Minstrel's shade ; 
The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
Ere the narrator's heart was cold — 
Far may we search before we find 
A heart so manly and so kind ! 
But not around his honor'd urn, 
Shall friends alone and kindred mourn ; 
The thousand eyes his care had dried, 
Pour at his name a bitter tide ; 
And frequent falls the grateful dew, 
For benefits the world ne'er knew. 
If mortal charity dare claim 
The Almighty's attributed name, 
Inscribe above his mouldering clay, 
" The widow's shield, the orphan's stay." 
Nor, though it wake thy sorrow, deem 
My verse intrudes on this sad theme ; 
For sacred was the pen that wrote, 

1 [MS. — " Scarce on thy bride her Sire had smiled."] 

2 [MS. — " But even the actions next Ins end, 

Spoke the fond sire and faithful friend."] 
:i Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, Baronet ; unequalled, perhaps, in the degree 
of individual affection entertained for him by his friends, as well as in the gen- 
eral respect and esteem of Scotland at large. His " Life of Beattie," whom he 
befriended and patronized in life, as well as celebrated after his decease, was not 
long published before the benevolent and affectionate biographer was called to 
follow the subject of his narrative. This melancholy event very shortly suc- 
ceeded the marriage of the friend to whom this Introduction is addressed, with 
one of Sir William's daughters. 



INTROD UCTION TO CANTO FOUR TH. ' j 4 { 



"Thy father's friend forget thou not : " 
And grateful title may I plead, 1 
For many a kindly word and deed, 
To bring my tribute to his grave : — 
Tis little — but 'tis all I have. 

To thee, perchance, this rambling strain 
Recalls our summer walks again ; 
When, doing nought, — and, to speak true, 
Not anxious to find aught to do, — 
The wild unbounded hills we ranged, 
While oft our talk its topic changed, 
And, desultory as our way, 
Ranged, unconfined, from grave to gay. 
Even when it flagg'd, as oft will chance, 
No effort made to break its trance, 
We could right pleasantly pursue 
Our sports in social silence too ; 2 
Thou gravely laboring to portray 
The blighted oak's fantastic spray ; 
I spelling o'er with much delight, 
The legend of that antique knight, 
Tirante by name, yclep'd the White. •-" 
At either's feet a trusty squire, 
Pandour and Camp, 3 with eyes of fire, 
Jealous, each other's motions view'd, 
And scarce suppress'd their ancient feud. 4 
The laverock whistled from the cloud ; 

1 [MS. — " And nearer title may I plead."] 

2 [MS. — " Our thoughts in social silence too."] 

3 [Ca?;?p was a favorite dog of the Poet's, a bull-terrier of extraordinary 
sagacity. He is introduced in Raeburn's portrait of Sir Walter Scott, now at 
Dalkeith Palace.] 

4 [MS. — " Till oft our voice suppress'd the feud."] 



142 



MARMION. 



The stream was lively, but not loud ; 
From the white thorn the May-flower shed 
Its dewy fragrance round our head : 
Not Ariel lived more merrily 
Under the blossom'd bough, than we. 

And blithesome nights, too, have been ours, 
When Winter stript the summer's bowers. 
Careless we heard, what now I hear, 1 
The wild blast sighing deep and drear, 
When fires were bright, and lamps beam'd gay, 
And ladies tuned the lovely lay ; 
And he was held a laggard soul, 
Who shunn'd to quaff the sparkling bowl. 
Then he, whose absence we deplore, 2 
Who breathes the gales of Devon's shore, 
The longer miss'd, bewail'd the more ; 

And thou, and I, and dear-loved R , 3 

And one whose name I may not say, — 4 

For not Mimosa's tender tree 

Shrinks sooner from the touch than he, — 

In merry chorus well combined, 

With laughter drown'd the whistling wind. 

Mirth was within ; and care without 

1 [MS. — " When light we heard what now I hear."] 

2 [Colin Mackenzie, Esq., of Portmore. See Border Minstrelsy, vol. iv., p. 

35I-] 

3 [Sir William Rae of St. Catharine's, Bart., subsequently Lord Advocate of 
Scotland, was a distinguished member of the volunteer corps to which Sir 
Walter Scott belonged; and he, the Poet, Mr. Skene, Mr. Mackenzie, and a few 
other friends, had formed themselves into a little semi-military club, the meet- 
ings of which were held at their family supper-tables in rotation.] 

4 [The gentleman whose name the Poet " might not say," will now, it is pre- 
sumed, pardon its introduction. The late Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, 
Bart., son of the author of the Life of Beattie, was another member of this vol- 
unteer corps and club.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FOURTH. 



143 



Might gnaw her nails to hear our shout. 

Not but amid the buxom scene 

Some grave discourse might intervene — 

Of the good horse that bore him best, 

His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest : 

For, like mad Tom's, 1 our chiefest care, 

Was horse to ride, and weapon wear. 

Such nights we've had ; and, though the game 9 

Of manhood be more sober tame, 

And though the field-day, or the drill, 

Seem less important now — yet still 

Such may we hope to share again. 

The sprightly thought inspires my strain ! 

And mark, how, like a horseman true, 

Lord Marmion's march I thus renew. 

1 See King Lear. 

2 [MS. — " Such nights we've had ; and though our game 

Advance of years may something tame."] 



©ant* 3%a\xxtU. 

THE CAMP. 
I. 

Eustace, I said, did blithely mark 
The first notes of the merry lark. 
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew, 
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew, 
And with their light and lively call, 
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall. 

Whistling they came, and free of heart, 
But soon their mood was changed ; 

Complaint was heard on every part, 
Of something disarranged. 
Some clamor'd loud for armor lost ; 
Some brawl'd and wrangled with the host ; 
" By Becket's bones," cried one, " I fear, 1 
That some false Scot has stolen my spear " — 
Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire, 
Found his steed wet with sweat and mire ; 
Although the rated horse-boy sware, 
Last night he dress'd him sleek and fair. 
While chafed the impatient squire like thunder, 
Old Hubert shouts, in fear and wonder, 
" Help, gentle Blount ! help comrades all ! 
Bevis lies dying in his stall : 

1 [MS. — " ' By Becket's bones,' cried one, ' I swear.' "] 



canto IV.] THE CAMP. 145 



To Marmion who the plight dare tell, 
Of the good steed he loves so well?" — 
Gaping for fear and ruth, they saw 
The charger panting on his straw ; l 
Till one, who would seem wisest, cried, — 
"What else but evil could betide. 
With that cursed Palmer for our guide ? 
Better we had through mire and bush 
Been lantern-led by Friar Rush." 2 

II. 

Fitz-Eustace, who the cause but guess'd, 

Nor wholly understood, 
His comrades' clamorous plaints suppress'd ; 

He knew Lord Marmion's mood. 
Him, ere he issued forth, he sought, 
And found deep plunged in gloomy thought, 

And did his tale display 
Simply, as if he knew of nought 

To cause such disarray. 
Ford Marmion gave attention cold, 
Nor marvell'd at the wonders told, — 

1 [MS. — " The good horse panting on the straw."] 

2 Alias, " Will o' the Wisp." This personage is a strolling demon, or esprit 
foiiet, who, once upon a time, got admittance into a monastery as a scullion, 
and played the Monks many pranks. He was also a sort of Robin Goodfellow, 
and Jack o' Lanthern. It is in allusion to this mischievous demon that Milton's 
clown speaks, — 

" She was pinched, and pull'd, she said, 
And he by Friar's lanthern led." 

" The History of Friar Rush " is of extreme rarity, and, for some time, even 
the existence of such a book was doubted, although it is expressly alluded to 
by Reginald Scot, in his " Discovery of Witchcraft." I have perused a copy in 
the valuable library of my friend Mr. Heber ; and I observe, from Mr. Beloe's 
" Anecdotes of Literature," that there is one in the excellent collection of the 
Marquis of Stafford. 



146 MARMION. [canto iv. 

Pass'd them as accidents of course, 
And bade his clarions sound to horse. 



III. 

Young Henry Blount, meanwhile, the cost 
Had reckon'd with their Scottish host ; 
And, as the charge he cast and paid, 
" 111 thou deservest thy hire," he said ; 
Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight? 
Fairies have ridden him all the night, 

And left him in a foam ! 
I trust, that soon a conjuring band, 
With English cross, and blazing brand, 1 
Shall drive the devils from this land, 

To their infernal home : 
For in this haunted den, I trow, 
All night they trampled to and fro." — - 
The laughing host look'd on the hire, — 
'•' Gramercy, gentle southern squire, 
And if thou comest among the rest, 
With Scottish broadsword to be blest, 
Sharp be the brand, and sure the blow, 
And short the pang to undergo." 
Here stay'd their talk, — for Marmion 
Gave now the signal to set on. 
The Palmer showing forth the way, 
They journey'd all the morning-day. 2 

IV. 

The green-sward way was smooth and good, 
Through Humbie's and through Saltoun's wood ; 

1 [MS. — " With bloody cross and fiery brand."] 

2 [MS. — " They journey'd till the middle day."] 



CANTO IV.] THE CAMP. I4 y 

A fore st -glade, which, varying still, 
Here gave a view of dale and hill, 
There narrower closed, till over head 
A vaulted screen the branches made. 
" A pleasant path," Fitz-Eustace said ; 
'•'Such as where errant-knights might see 
Adventures of high chivalry ; 
Might meet some damsel flying fast, 
With hair unbound, and looks aghast ; 
And smooth and level course were here, 
In her defence to break a spear. 
Here, too, are twilight nooks and dells ; 
And oft, in such, the story tells, 
The damsel kind, from danger freed, 
Did grateful pay her champion's meed." 
He spoke to cheer Lord Marmion's mind ; 
Perchance to show his lore design'd ; 

For Eustace much had pored 
Upon a huge romantic tome, 1 
In the hall-window of his home, 
Imprinted at the antique dome 

Of Caxton, or de Worde. 2 
Therefore he spoke, — but spoke in vain, 
For Marmion answer'd nought again. 

V. 

Now sudden, distant trumpets shrill, 
In notes prolong'd by wood and hill, 
Were heard to echo far ; 

1 [MS. — " Upon a black and ponderous tome."] 

- [William Caxton, the earliest English printer, was born in Kent, A.D. 1412, 
and died 1491. Wynken de Worde was his next successor in the production 
of those 

" Rare volumes, dark with tarnish'd gold," 

which are now the delight of bibliomaniacs.! 



148 MARMION. [canto iv. 

Each ready archer grasp'd his bow, 
But by the flourish soon they know, 
t They breathed no point of war. 

Yet cautious, as in foeman's land, 
Lord Marmion's order speeds the band, 

Some opener ground to gain ; 
And scarce a furlong had they rode, 
When thinner trees, receding, show'd 

A little woodland plain. 
Just in that advantageous glade, 
The halting troop a line had made, 
As forth from the opposing shade 

Issued a gallant train. 



VI. 

First came the trumpets, at whose clang 

So late the forest echoes rang ; 

On prancing steeds they forward press'd, 

With scarlet mantle, azure vest : 

Each at his trump a banner wore, 

Which Scotland's royal scutcheon l bore : 

Heralds and pursuivants, by name 

Bute, Islay, Marchmount, Rothsay, came, 

In painted tabards, proudly showing 

Gules, Argent, Or, and Azure glowing, 

Attendant on a King-at-arms, 
Whose hand the armorial truncheon held, 
That feudal strife had often quell' d, 

When wildest its alarms. 



1 [The MS. lias " Scotland's royal Lion " here ; in line 9th " scarlet tabards 
and in line 12th, " blazoned truncheon."] 




First came the trumpets, at whose clang 
So late the forest echoes rang." 

Canto iv. 6. 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. I49 



VII. 

He was a man of middle age ; 
In aspect manly, grave, and sage, 

As on King's errand come ; 
But in the glances of his eye, 
A penetrating, keen, and sly 

Expression found its home ; 
The flash of that satiric rage, 
Which, bursting on the early stage, 
Branded the vices of the age, 

And broke the keys of Rome. 1 
On milk-white palfrey forth he paced ; 
His cap of maintenance was graced 

With the proud heron-plume. 
From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast, 
Silk housings swept the ground, 
With Scotland's arms, device, and crest, 

Embroider'd round and round. 
The double tressure might you see. 

First by Achaius borne, 
The thistle and the fleur-de-lis 

And gallant unicorn. 2 
So bright the King's armorial coat, 
That scarce the dazzled eye could note, 
In living colors, blazon'd brave, 
The Lion, which his title gave ; 
A train, which well beseem'd his state, 
But all unharm'd, around him wait. 

1 [MS. — " The flash of that satiric rage, 

Which, bursting from the early stage, 
Lash'd the coarse vices of the age," &c] 

2 [MS. — " Silver unicorn." This, and the seven preceding lines, are inter- 
polated in the blank page of the MS.] 



150 MARMION. [canto iv. 

Still is thy name in high account, 
. And still thy verse has charms, 
Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
Lord Lion King-at-arms ! 1 



VIII. 

Down from his horse did Marmion spring, 

Soon as he saw the Lion-King; 

For well the stately Baron knew 

To him such courtesy was due, 

Whom Royal James himself had crown'd, 

And on his temples placed the round 

Of Scotland's ancient diadem : 
And wet his brow with haliow'd wine, 
And on his finger given to shine 

The emblematic gem. 
Their mutual greetings duly made, 
The Lion thus his message said : — 
" Though Scotland's King hath deeply swore 2 
Ne'er to knit faith with Henry more, 
And strictly hath forbid resort 
From England to his royal court ; 
Yet, for he knows Lord Marmion's name, 
And honors much his warlike fame, 
My liege hath deem'd it shame, and lack 
Of courtesy, to turn him back ; 
And, by his order, I, your guide, 
Must lodging fit and fair provide, 
Till finds King James meet time to see 
The flower of English chivalry." 

1 [See Appendix, Note I.] 

2 [MS. — " The Lion-King his message said,— 

' My Liege hath deep and deadly swore,' " &C.] 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 151 



IX. 

Though inly chafed at this delay, 
Lord Marmion bears it as he may. 
The Palmer, his mysterious guide, 
Beholding thus his place supplied, 

Sought to take leave in vain : 
Strict was the Lion- King's command, 
That none, who rode in Marm ion's band, 

Should sever from the train : 
" England has here enow of spies 
In Lady Heron's witching eyes : " 
To Marchmount thus, apart, he said, 
But fair pretext to Marmion made. 
The right hand path they now decline, 
And trace against the stream the Tyne. 



At length up that wild dale they wind, 

Where Crichtoun Castle l crowns the bank ; 
For there the Lion's care assign'd 

A lodging meet for Marmion's rank. 
That Castle rises on the steep 

Of the green vale of Tyne : 
And far beneath, where slow they creep, 
From pool to eddy, dark and deep, 
Where alders moist, and willows weep, 

You hear her streams repine. 2 
The towers in different ages rose ; 
Their various architecture shows 

The builders' various hands ; 

1 [See Appendix, Note K ; and, for a fuller description of Crichton Castle, 
see Sir Walter Scott's Provincial Antiquities of Scotland, 4to, 1826, vol. i.] 



2 [MS. — " Her lazy streams repine."] 



152 M ARM I ON. [canto iv. 

A mighty mass, that could oppose, 1 
When deadliest hatred fired its foes, 
The vengeful Douglas bands. 



XL 

Crichtoun ! though now thy miry court 

But pens the lazy steer and sheep, 

Thy turrets rude, and totter'd Keep, 
Have been the minstrel's loved resort. 
Oft have I traced, within thy fort, 

Of mouldering shields the mystic sense, 2 

Scutcheons of honor, or pretence, 
Quarter'd in old armorial sort, 

Remains of rude magnificence. 
Nor wholly yet had time defaced 

Thy lordly gallery fair ; 
Nor yet the stony cord unbraced, 
Whose twisted knots, with roses laced, 

Adorn thy ruin'd stair. 
Still rises unimpaired below, 
The court-yard's graceful portico ; 
Above its cornice, row and row 

Of fair hewn facets richly show 
Their pointed diamond form, 

Though there but houseless cattle go, 
To shield them from the storm. 

And, shuddering, still may we explore, 
Where oft whilom were captives pent, 

The darkness of thy Massy More ; 3 
Or, from thy grass-grown battlement, 

1 [MS. — " But the huge mass could well oppose."] 

2 [MS. — " Of many a mouldering shield the sense."] 

3 The pit, or prison vault. — [See Appendix, Note K.] 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 1 5 3 

May trace, in undulating line, 
The sluggish mazes of the Tyne. 

XII. 

Another aspect Crichtoun show'd, 

As through its portal Marmion rode ; 

But yet 'twas melancholy state 

Received him at the outer gate ; 

For none were in the Castle then, 

But women, boys, or aged men. 

With eyes scarce dried, the sorrowing dame, 

To welcome noble Marmion, came ; 

Her son, a stripling twelve years old, 

Proffer'd the Baron's rein to hold ; 

For each man that could draw a sword 

Had march'd that morning with their lord, 

Earl Adam Hepburn, — he who died 

On Flodden, by his sovereign's side, 1 

Long may his Lady look in vain ! 

She ne'er shall see his gallant train, 2 

Come sweeping back through Crichtoun-Dean. 

1 He was the second Earl of Botlnvell, and fell in the field of Flodden, 
.vhere, according to an ancient English poet, lie distinguished himself by a 
furious attempt to retrieve the day : — 

" Then on the Scottish part, right proud, 

The Earl of Bothwell then our brast, 
And stepping forth, with stomach good, 

Into the enemies' throng he thrast; 
And Bothwell / Bothwell / cried bold, 

To cause his souldiers to ensue, 
But there he caught a welcome cold, 

The Englishmen straight down him threw. 
Thus Haburn through his hardy heart 

His fatal fine in conflict found," &c. 

Flodden Field, a Poem; edited by H. Weber. Edin., 1808. 

2 [MS. — " Well might his gentle Lady mourn, # 

Doom'd ne'er to see her Lord's return."! 



1^4 MARMION. [canto iv. 



' Twas a brave race before the name 
Of hated Bothwell stain'd their fame. 1 

XIII. 

And here two days did Marmion rest, 
With every right that honor claims, 

Attended as the King's own guest,— 
Such the command of Royal James, 

Who marshall'd then his land's array, 

Upon the Borough-moor that lay, 

Perchance he would not foeman's eye 

Upon his gathering host should pry, 

Till full prepared was every band 

To march against the English land. 

Here while they dwelt, did Lindesay's wit 

Oft cheer the Baron's moodier fit ; 

And, in his turn, he knew to prize 

Lord Marmion's powerful mind, and wise, — 

Train 'd in the lore of Rome and Greece, 

And policies of war and peace. 2 

XIV. 
It chanced, as fell the second night, 

That on the battlements they walk'd, 
And, by the slowly fading light, 

Of varying topics talk'd : 
And, unaware, the Herald- bard 3 

1 Adam was grandfather to James, Earl of Bothwell, too well known 
the history of Queen Mary. 

2 [MS. — " Nor less the Herald Monarch knew 

The Baron's powers to value true — 
Hence confidence between them grew."] 

3 [MS. — " Then fell from Lindesay, unaware, 

That Marmion might ) , . , , 

,, . . . „ \ his labor SDare. J 

Marmion might well J 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 155 



Said, Marmion might his toil have spared, 

In travelling so far ; 
For that a messenger from heaven 
In vain to James had counsel given 

Against the English war : l 
And, closer question'd, thus he told 
A tale, which chronicles of old 
In Scottish story have enroll'd : — 

XV. 

Sir gabxb JJiniusag's iale. 

" Of all the palaces so fair, 2 
Built for the royal dwelling, 
In Scotland, far beyond compare 
Linlithgow is excelling ; 3 

1 [Sec Appendix, Note L.] 

2 [" In some places Mr. Scott's love of variety has betrayed him into strange 
imitations. This is evidently formed on the school of Sternhold and Hop- 
kins, — 

Of all the palaces so fair," &c. 

Jeffrey.] 

3 [In Scotland there are about twenty palaces, castles, and remains, or 
sites of such, 

" Where Scotia's kings of other years " 

had their royal home. 

" Linlithgow, distinguished by the combined strength and beauty at its situ- 
ation, must have been early selected as a royal residence. David, who bought 
the title of Saint by his liberality to the Church, refers several of his charters to 
his town of Linlithgow ; and in that of Holyrood expressly bestows on the new 
monastery all the skins of the rams, ewes, and lambs, belonging to his castle of 
Linlitcu, which shall die during the year. . . . The convenience afforded for 
the sport of falconry, which was so great' a favorite during the feudal ages, was 
probably one cause of the attachment of the ancient Scottish monarchs to 
Linlithgow and its fine lake. The sport of hunting was also followed with suc- 
cess in the neighborhood, from which circumstance it probably arises that the 
ancient arms of the city represent a black greyhound bitch tied to a tree. . . . 
The situation of Linlithgow Palace is eminently beautiful. It stands on a 
promontory of some elevation, which advances almost into the midst of the 



156 MARMION. [canto iv. 

And in its park, in jovial June, 
How sweet the merry linnet's tune, 

How blithe the blackbird's lay ! 

The wild buck bells l from ferny brake, 
The coot dives merry on the lake, 
The saddest heart might pleasure take 

To see all nature gay. 
But June is to our Sovereign dear 
The heaviest month in all the year ; 
Too well his cause of grief you know, 
June saw his father's overthrow. 2 
Woe to the traitors, who could bring 
The princely boy against his King ! 
Still in his conscience burns the sting. 

lake. The form is that of a square court, composed of buildings of four stories 
high, with towers at the angles. The fronts within the square, and the windows, 
are highly ornamented, and the size of the rooms, as well as the width and 
character of the staircases, are upon a magnificent scale. One banquet-room 
is ninety-four feet long, thirty feet wide, and thirty-three feet high, with a gallery 
for music. The king's wardrobe, or dressing-room, looking to the west, pro- 
jects over the walls, so as to have a delicious prospect on three sides, and is 
one of the most enviable boudoirs we have ever seen." — SIR Walter Scott's 
Provincial Antiquities^ 

1 I am glad of an opportunity to describe the cry of the deer by another 
word than braying, although the latter has been sanctified by the use of the 
Scottish metrical translation of the Psalms. Bell seems to be an abbreviation 
of bellow. This silvan sound conveyed great delight to our ancestors, chiefly, 
I suppose, from association. A gentle knight in the reign of Henry VIII., Sir 
Thomas Wortley, built Wantley Lodge, in Wancliffe Forest, for the pleasure 
(as an ancient inscription testifies) of listening to the hart's bell. 

2 The rebellion against fames III. was signalized by the cruel circumstance 
of his son's presence in the hostile army. When the King saw his own banner 
displayed against him, and his son in the faction of his enemies, he lost the 
little courage he had ever possessed, fled out of the field, fell from his horse as 
it started at a woman and water-pitcher, and was slain, it is not well understood 
by whom. James IV., after the battle, passed to Stirling, and hearing the 
monks of the chapel-royal deploring the death of his father, their founder, he 
was seized with deep remorse, which manifested itself in severe penances. Sec 
a following note on stanza ix. of canto v. The battle of Sauchieburn, in which 
James III. fell, was fought 18th June, 1488. 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 157 

In offices as strict as Lent, 
King James's June is ever spent. 1 

XVI. 
" When last this ruthful month was come, 
And in Linlithgow's holy dome 

The King, as wont, was praying ; 
While, for his royal father's soul, 
The chanters sung, the bells did toll, 

The Bishop mass was saying — 
For now the year brought round again 2 
The day the luckless King was slain — 
In Katharine's aisle the monarch knelt, 
With sackcloth-shirt, and iron belt, 

And eyes with sorrow streaming ; 
Around him in their stalls of state, 
The Thistle's Knight-Companions sate, 

Their banners o'er them beaming. 
I too was there, and, sooth to tell, 
Bedeafen'd with the jangling knell, 
Was watching where the sunbeams fell, 

Through the stain'd casement gleaming ; 
But, while I mark'd what next befell, 

It seem'd as I were dreaming. 
Stepp'd from the crowd a ghostly wight, 
In azure gown, with cincture white ; 
His forehead bald, his head was bare, 

1 [MS. — " In offices as strict as Lent, 

And penances, his Junes are spent."] 

2 [MS. — " For now the year brought round again 

The very day that he j 

The day that the third James J 

In Katharine's aisle the Monarch kneels, 

And folded hands ) , , 

.... . .\ show what he teels. | 

And hands sore clasped] J 



158 MARMION. [canto iv. 

Down hung at length his yellow hair. — 

Now, mock me not, when, good ray Lord, 

I pledge to you my knightly word, 

That, when I saw his placid grace, 

His simple majesty of face, 

His solemn bearing, and his pace 

So stately gliding on, — 
Seem'd to me ne'er did limner paint 
So just an image of the Saint, 
Who propp'd the virgin in her faint, — 

The loved Apostle John ! 

XVII. 

" He stepp'd before the Monarch's chair, 
And stood with rustic plainness there, 

And little reverence made ; 
Nor head, nor body, bow'd, nor bent, 
But on the desk his arm he leant, 

And words like these he said, 
In a low voice, ■ — but never tone l 
So thrill'd through vein, and nerve, and bone : — 
' My mother sent me from afar, 
Sir King, to warn thee not to war, — 

Woe waits on thine array ; 
If war thou wilt, of woman fair, 2 
Her witching wiles and wanton snare, 
James Stuart, doubly warn'd, beware : 

God keep thee as he may ! ' 

The wondering monarch seem'd to seek 

1 [MS. — " In a low voice — but every tone 

Thrill'd through the listener's vein and bone."] 

2 [MS. — " And if to war thou needs wilt fare 

Of wanton wiles and woman's ) ,,_. 

^r -i j r snare. ] 

Of woman s wiles and wanton J 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 159 

For answer, and found none ; 
And when he raised his head to speak, 
The monitor was gone. 
The marshal and myself had cast 
To stop him as he outward pass'd ; 
But, lighter than the whirlwind's blast, 

He vanish d from our eyes, 

Like sunbeam on the billow cast, 

That glances but, and dies." 

XVIII. 
While Lindesay told his marvel strange, 

The twilight was so pale, 
He mark'd not Marmion's color change, 

While listening to the tale : 
But, after a suspended pause, 
The Baron spoke : — "Of Nature's laws 

So strong I held the force, 
That never superhuman cause 
Could e'er control their course ; 
And, three days since, had judged your aim 
Was but to make your guest your game. 
But I have seen, since past the Tweed, 1 
What much has changed my sceptic creed, 
And made me credit aught." — He staid, 
And seem'd to wish his words unsaid : 
But, by that strong emotion press'd, 
Which prompts us to unload our breast, 

Even when discovery's pain, 
To Lindesay did at length unfold 
The tale his village host had told, 
At Gifford, to his train. 

1 [MS. — " But events, since I cross'd the Tweed, 
Have undermined my sceptic creed."] 



160 MARMION. [canto iv. 



Nought of the Palmer says he there, 
And nought of Constance, or of Clare ; 
The thoughts, which broke his sleep, he seems 
To mention but as feverish dreams. 

XIX. 

" In vain," said he, " to rest I spread 
My burning limbs, and couch'd my head : 

Fantastic thoughts return'd ; 
And, by their wild dominion led, 

My heart within me burn'd. 1 
So sore was the delirious goad, 
I took my steed, and forth I rode, 
And, as the moon shone bright and cold, 
Soon reach'd the camp upon the wold. 
The southern entrance I pass'd through, 
And halted, and my bugle blew. 
Methought an answer met my ear, — 
Yet was the blast so low and drear, 2 
So hollow, and so faintly blown, 
It might be echo of my own. 

XX. 

" Thus judging, for a little space 
I listen'd, ere I left the place ; 

But scarce could trust my eyes, 
Nor yet can think they serve me true, 

1 [MS. — " In vain," said he, " to rest I laid 

My burning limbs, and throbbing head- 
Fantastic thoughts return'd ; 

/-led, 
And, by their wild dominion I sway'd, 
I sped, 
My heart within me burn'd."] 

2 [MS. — " And yet it was so low and drear."] 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. ^i 

When sudden in the ring I view, 
In form distinct of shape and hue, 

A mounted champion rise. — 
I've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day, 1 
In single fight, and mix'd affray, 
And ever, I myself may say, 

Have borne me as a knight ; 
But when this unexpected foe 
Seem'd starting from the gulf below, — 
I care not though the truth I show, — 

I trembled with affright ; 
And as I placed in rest my spear, 
My hand so shook for very fear, 

I scarce could couch it right. 

XXI. 
"Why need my tongue the issue tell? 
We ran our course, — my charger fell ; — 
What could he 'gainst the shock of hell ? 

I roll'd upon the plain. 
High o'er my head, with threatening hand, 
The spectre shook his naked brand, — 2 

Yet did the worst remain : 
My dazzled eyes I upward cast, — 
Not opening hell itself could blast 

Their sight, like what I saw ! 
Full on his face the moonbeam strook ! — 
A face could never be mistook ! 

1 [MS. — " I've been, Lord-Lion, many a day, 

In combat single, or melee."] 

2 [MS. — " The spectre shook his naked brand, — 

Yet doth the worst remain : 
My reeling eyes I upward cast, — 
But opening hell could never blast 

Their sight like what I saw."] 



1 62 M ARM ION. [canto iv. 

I knew the stern vindictive look, 

And held my breath for awe. 
I saw the face of one who, fled ] 
To foreign climes, has long been dead, — 

I well believe the last ; 
For ne'er, from visor raised, did stare 
A human warrior, with a glare 

So grimly and so ghast. 
Thrice o'er my head he shook the blade ; 
But when to good Saint George I pray'd, 
(The first time e'er I ask'd his aid), 

He plunged it in the sheath ; 
And, on his courser mounting light, 
He seem'd to vanish from my sight : 
The moonbeam droop'd, and deepest night 

Sunk down upon the heath. — 

'Twere long to tell what cause I have 
To know his face that met me there, 

Call'd by his hatred from the grave, 
To cumber upper air : 
Dead, or alive, good cause had he 
To be my mortal enemy." 

XXII. 

Marvell'd Sir David of the Mount ; 
Then, learn'd in story, 'gan recount 
Such chance had happ'd of old, 
When once, near Norham, there did fight 
A spectre fell of fiendish might, 

1 [MS. — " I knew the face of one long dead, 

Or who to foreign climes hath fled . . . 

I knew the face of one who fled 
To foreign climes, or long since dead — 
I well may judge the last."] 



CANTO IV.] THE CAMP. !6 3 

In likeness of a Scottish knight, 

With Brian Buhner bold, 
And train'd him nigh to disallow 
The aid of his baptismal vow. 
" And such a phantom, too, 'tis said, 
With Highland broadsword, targe, and plaid, 

And fingers red with gore, 
Is seen in Rothiemurcus glade, 
Or where the sable pine-tree shade 
Dark Tomantoul, and Auchnaslaid, 

Dromouchty, or Glen more. 1 
And yet, whate'er such legends say, 
Of warlike demon, ghost, or fay, 

On mountain, moor, or plain, 
Spotless in faith, in bosom bold,'- 2 
True son of chivalry should hold 

These midnight terrors vain ; 
For seldom have such spirits power 
To harm, save in the evil hour, 
When guilt we meditate within, 3 
Or harbor unrepented sin." — 
Lord Marmion turn'd him half aside, 
And twice to clear his voice he tried, 

Then press'd Sir David's hand, — 
But nought, at length, in answer said ; 
And here their farther converse staid, 

Each ordering that his band 
Should bowne them with the rising day, 
To Scotland's camp to take their way, — 

Such was the King's command. 

1 See the traditions concerning Bulmer and the spectre called Lhamdearg 
or Bloody-hand, in a note on canto iii. [Appendix, Note H.] 

2 [MS. — " Of spotless faith, and bosom bold."] 

3 [MS. — " When mortals meditate within 

Fresh guilt, or unrepented sin."] 



1 64 M ARM I ON. [canto iv. 

XXIII. 

Early they took Dun-Edin's road, 
And I could trace each step they trode : 
Hill, brook, nor dell, nor rock, nor stone, 
Lies on the path to me unknown. 
Much might it boast of storied lore ; 
But, passing such digression o'er, 
Suffice it that their route was laid 
Across the furzy hills of Braid. 
They pass'd the glen and scanty rill, 
And climb'd the opposing bank, until 
They gain'd the top of Blackford Hill. 

XXIV. 

Blackford ! on whose uncultured breast, 

Among the broom, and thorn, and whin,. 
A truant-boy, I sought the nest, 
Or listed, as I lay at rest, 

While rose, on breezes thin, 
The murmur of the city crowd, 
And, from his steeple jangling loud, 

Saint Giles's mingling din. 
Now, from the summit to the plain, 
Waves all the hill with yellow grain ; 

And o'er the landscape as I look, 
Nought do I see unchanged remain, 

Save the rude cliffs and chiming brook. 
To me they make a heavy moan, 
Of early friendships past and gone. 



O C» 

Is 



?1 



3 5 
p 




canto iv.] THE CAMP. 165 

XXV. 

But different far the change has been, 1 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford, saw that martial scene 

Upon the bent so brown : 
Thousand pavilions, white as snow, 
Spread all the Borough-moor below, 2 

Upland, and dale, and down : — 
A thousand did I say? I ween, 3 
Thousands on thousands there were seen 
That chequer'd all the heath between 

The streamlet and the town ; 
In crossing ranks extending far, 
Forming a camp irregular ; 4 
Oft giving way, where still there stood 
Some relics of the old oak wood, 

1 [MS. — " But, oh, far different change has been, 

Since Marmion, from the crown 
Of Blackford-hill, upon the scene 
Of Scotland's war look'd down."] 

2 The Borough, or Common Moor of Edinburgh, was of very great extent, 
reaching from the southern walls of the city to the bottom of Braid Hills. It 
was anciently a forest ; and in that state was so great a nuisance that the inhab- 
tants of Edinburgh had permission granted to them of building wooden galler- 
ies, projecting over the street, in order to encourage them to consume the 
timber, which they seem to have done very effectually. When James IV. mus- 
tered the array of the kingdom there in 1513, the Borough-moor was, according 
to Hawthornden, " a field spacious, and delightful by the shade of many 
stately and aged oaks." Upon that, and similar occasions, the royal standard 
is traditionally said to have been displayed from the Hare Stane, a high stone, 
now built into the wall, on the left hand of the highway leading towards Braid, 
not far from the head of Burntsfield Links. The Hare Stane probably derives 
its name from the British word Har, signifying an army. 

3 [MS. — " A thousand said the verse ? I ween, 

Thousands on thousands there were seen, 
That whitened all the heath between."] 

4 [Here ends the stanza in the MS.] 



1 66 MARMION. [canto iv. 

That darkly huge did intervene, 

And tamed the glaring white with green : 

In these extended lines there lay 

A martial kingdom's vast array. 

XXVI. 

For from Hebrides, dark with rain, 
To eastern Lodon's fertile plain, 
And from the southern Redswire edge, 
To farthest Rosse's rocky ledge : 
From west to east, from south to north, 
Scotland sent all her warriors forth. 
Marmion might hear the mingled hum 
Of myriads up the mountain come ; 
The horses' tramp, and tingling clank, 
Where chiefs review'd their vassal rank, 

And charger's shrilling neigh ; 
And see the shifting lines advance, 
While frequent flash'd from shield and lance, 

The sun's reflected ray. 

XXVII. 

Thin curling in the morning air, 

The wreaths of failing smoke declare 

To embers now the brands decay'd, 

Where the night-watch their fires had made. 

They saw, slow rolling on the plain, 

Full many a baggage-cart and wain, 

And dire artillery's clumsy car, 

By sluggish oxen tugg'd to war ; 

And there were Borthwick's Sisters Seven, 1 

And culverins which France had given. 

1 Seven culverins so called, cast by one Borthwick. 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. 167 

Ill-omen'd gift ! the guns remain 

The conqueror's spoil on Flodden plain. 



XXVIII. 

Nor mark'd they less, where in the air 
A thousand streamers flaunted fair; 
Various in shape, device, and hue, 
Green, sanguine, purple, red, and blue, 
Broad, narrow, swallow-tail'd, and square, 
Scroll, pennon, pencil, bandrol, 1 there 

O'er the pavilions flew. 2 
Highest, and midmost, was descried 



1 Each of these feudal ensigns intimated the different rank of those entitled 
to display them. 

2 I do not exactly know the Scottish mode of encampment in 1513, but 
Patten gives a curious description of that which he saw after the battle of 
Pinkey, in 1547 : — " Here now, to say somewhat of the manner of their camp : 
As they had no pavilions, or round houses, of any commendable compass, so 
wear there few other tentes with posts, as the used manner of making is ; and 
of these few also, none of above twenty foot length, but most far under; for the 
most part all very sumptuously beset (after their fashion), for the love of 
France, with fieur-de-lys, some of blue buckeram, some of black, and some of 
some other colors. These white ridges, as I call them, that, as we stood on 
Fauxsyde Bray did make so great muster toward us, which I did take then to 
be a number of tentes, when we came, we found it a linen drapery, of the 
coarser cambryk in dede, for it was all of canvas sheets, and wear the tenticles, 
or rather cabyns and couches of their soldiers; the which, (much after the 
common building of their country beside) had they framed of four sticks, about 
an ell long apiece, whearof two fastened together at one end aloft, and the two 
endes beneath stuck in the ground, an ell asunder, standing in fashion like the 
bowes of a sowes yoke ; over two such bowes (one, as it were, at their head, the 
other at their feet,) they stretched a sheet down on both sides, whereby their 
cabin became roofed like a ridge, but skant shut at both ends, and not very 
close beneath on the sides, unless their sticks were the shorter, or their wives 
the more liberal to lend thern larger napery ; howbeit, when they had lined 
them, and stuff'd them so thick with straw, with the weather as it was not very 
cold, when they wear ones couched, they were as warm as they had been 
wrapt in horses dung." — PATTEN'S Account of Somerset's Expedition. 



1 68 M ARM ION. [canto iv. 

The royal banner floating wide \ 

The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 1 

Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone, 

Which still in memory is shown, 

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight 
Whene'er the western wind unroll'd, 
With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold. 

And gave to view the dazzling field, 

Where in proud Scotland's royal shield, 
The ruddy lion ramp'd in gold. 2 

XXIX. 

Lord Marmion viewed the landscape bright. — 3 
He view'd it with a chief's delight, 
Until within him burn'd his heart, 
And lightning from his eye did part, 

As on the battle-day ; 
Such glance did falcon never dart, 
When stooping on his prey. 
" Oh ! well, Lord-Lion, hast thou said, 
Thy King from warfare to dissuade 

1 [MS. — " The standard staff, a mountain pine, 

Pitch'd in a huge memorial stone, 
That still in monument is shown."] 

2 The well-known arms of Scotland. If you will believe Boethius and 
Buchanan, the double tressure round the shield, mentioned p. 199, counter 

fteur-de-lysed, or lingued and ar?ned azure, was first assumed by Achaius, King 
of Scotland, contemporary of Charlemagne, and founder of the celebrated 
League with France ; but later antiquaries make poor Eochy, or Achy, little 
better than a sort of King of Brentford, whom old Grig (who has also swelled 
into Gregorius Magnus) associated with himself in the important duty of gov- 
erning some part of the north-eastern part of Scotland. 
3 .[MS. — " Lord Marmion's large dark eye flashed light, 

It kindled with a chief's delight, 

For glow'd with martial joy his heart, 
As upon battle-day."] 



CANTO IV. j THE CAMP. i($g 

Were but a vain essay : 
For, by Saint George, were that host mine, 
Not power infernal, nor divine, 
Should once to peace my soul incline, 
Till I had dimm'd their armor's shine 

In glorious battle-fray ! " 
Answer'd the Bard, of milder mood : 
" Fair is the sight, — and yet 'twere good, 

That Kings would think withal, 
When peace and wealth their land has bless'd, 
'Tis better to sit still at rest, 1 

Than rise, perchance to fall." 

XXX. 

Still on the spot Lord Marmion stay'd, 
For fairer scene he ne'er survey'd. 

When sated with the martial show 

That peopled all the plain below, 
The wandering eye could o'er it go, 
And mark the distant city glow 

With gloomy splendor red ; 
For on the smoke- wreaths, huge and slow, 
That round her sable turrets flow, 

The morning beams were shed, 
And tinged them with a lustre proud, 
Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. 
Such dusky grandeur clothed the height, 
Where the huge Castle holds its state, 

And all the steep slope down, 
Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 

1 [MS. — " 'Tis better sitting still at rest, 
Than rising but to fall : 
And while these words they did exchange, 
They reach' d the camp's cxtremest range!'} 



170 M ARM TON. [canto iv. 

Piled deep and massy, close and high, 

Mine own romantic town ! l 
But northward far, with purer blaze, 
On Ochil mountains fell the rays, 
And as each heathy top they kiss'd, 
It gleam'd a purple amethyst. 
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw ; 
Here Preston-Bay, and Berwick- Law ; 

And, broad between them roll'd, 
The gallant Frith the eye might note, 
Whose islands on its bosom float, 

Like emeralds chased in gold. 
Fitz- Eustace' heart felt closely pent ; 
As if to give his rapture vent, 
The spur he to his charger lent, 

And raised his bridle hand, 
And making demi-volte in air, 
Cried, " Where's the coward that would not dare 

To fight for such a land ! " 
The Lindesay smiled his joy to see ; ~ 
Nor Marmion's frown repress'd his glee. 

XXXI. 

Thus while they look'd, a flourish proud, 
Where mingled trump, and clarion loud, 

And fife, and kettle-drum, 
And sackbut deep, and psaltery, 
And war-pipe with discordant cry, 
And cymbal clattering to the sky, 
Making wild music bold and high, 

Did up the mountain come ; 
The whilst the bells with distant chime, 

1 [MS. — " Dun-Edin's towers and town."] 
- [MS. — " The Lion smiled his joy to see."] 



canto iv.] THE CAMP. \j\ 

Merrily toll'd the hour of prime, 

And thus the Lindesay spoke : ] 
"Thus clamor still the war-notes when 
The King to mass his way has ta'en, 
Or to Saint Katharine's of Sienne, 2 

Or Chapel of Saint Rocque. 
To you they speak of martial fame ; 3 
But me remind of peaceful game, 

When blither was their cheer, 
Thrilling in Falkland-woods the air, 
In signal none his steed should spare, 
But strive which foremost might repair 

To the downfall of the deer. 

XXXII. 
" Nor less," he said, — " when looking forth, 
I view yon Empress of,the North 

Sit on her hilly throne ; 
Her palace's imperial bowers, 
Her castle, proof to hostile powers, 
Her stately halls and holy towers — 4 

Nor less," he said, " I moan, 
To think what woe mischance may bring, 
And how these merry bells may ring 
The death-dirge of our gallant King ; 
^^ Or with the larum call 

The burghers forth to watch and ward, 
'Gainst southern sack and fires to guard 

Dun-Edin's leaguer'd wall. — 

1 [MS. — " And thus the Lion spoke."] 

2 [MS. — " Or to our Lady's of Sienne."] 

3 [MS. — " To you they speak of martial fame, 

To me of mood more mild and tame — 
Blither would be their cheer."] 

4 [MS. — " Her stately fane s and holy towers."] 



1 72 MARMTON. [canto iv.] 

But not for my presaging thought, 

Dream conquest sure, or cheaply bought ! ] 

Lord Marmion, I say nay : 
God is the guider of the field, 
He breaks the champion's spear and shield, — 

But thou thyself shalt say, 
When joins yon host in deadly stowre, 
That England's dames must weep in bower, 

Her monks the death-mass sing ; ~ 
For never saw'st thou such a power 

Led on by such a King." — 
And now, down winding to the plain, 
The barriers of the camp they gain, 

And there they made a stay. — 
There stays the Minstrel, till he fling 
His hand o'er every Border string, 
And fit his harp the pomp to sing, 
Of Scotland's ancient Court and King, 

In the succeeding lay. 

1 [MS. — " Dream of a conquest cheaply bought."] 

2 [MS. — " Their monks dead masses sing."] 



MARMION. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 

TO GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ. 2 



Edinburgh. 
When dark December glooms the day. 
And takes our autumn joys away ; 
When short and scant the sunbeam throws, 
Upon the weary waste of snows, 
A cold and profitless regard, 
Like patron on a needy bard ; 
When silvan occupation's done, 
. And o'er the chimney rests the gun, 
And hang, in idle trophy, near, 
The game-pouch, fishing-rod, and spear ; 
When wiry terrier, rough and grim, 
And greyhound, with his length of limb, 

1 [" These Introductory Epistles, though excellent in themselves, are in fact 
only interruptions to the fable, and, accordingly, nine readers out of ten have 
perused them separately, either before or after the poem. In short, the persona; 
appearance of the Minstrel, who, though the Last, is the most charming of al! 
minstrels, is by no means compensated by the idea of an author shorn of his 
picturesque beard, and writing letters to his intimate friends." — George 
Ellis.] 

2 [This accomplished gentleman, the well-known coadjutor of Mr. Canning 
and Mr. Frere in the " Antijacobin," and editor of "Specimens of Ancient 
English Romances," &c, died loth April, 1815, aged 70 years; being succeeded 
in his estates by his brother, Charles Ellis, Esq., created, in 1827, Lord Seaford. 
-ED.] 



1^4 M ARM ION 



And pointer, now employ'd no more, 

Cumber our parlor's narrow floor ; 

When in his stall the impatient steed 

Is long condemn'd to rest and feed ; 

When from our snow-encircled home, 

Scarce cares the hardiest step to roam, 

Since path is none, save that to bring 

The needful water from the spring ; 

When wrinkled news-page, thrice conn'd o'er, 

Beguiles the dreary hour no more, 

And darkling politician, cross 'd, 

Inveighs against the lingering post, 

And answering housewife sore complains 

Of carriers' snow-impeded wains ; 

When such the country cheer, I come, 

Well pleased, to seek our city home ; 

For converse, and for books, to change 

The Forest's melancholy range, 

And welcome, with renew' d delight, 

The busy day and social night. 

Not here need my desponding rhyme 
Lament the ravages of time, 
As erst by Newark's riven towers, 
And Ettrick stripp'd of forest bowers. 1 
True, — Caledonia's Queen is changed, 2 

1 See Introduction to Canto ii. 

2 The Old Town of Edinburgh was secured on the north side by a lake, now 
drained, and on the south by a wall, which there was some attempt to make 
defensible even so late as 1745. The gates and the greater part of the wall have 
been pulled down, in the course of the late extensive and beautiful enlargement 
of the city. My ingenious and valued friend, Mr. Thomas Campbell, proposed 
to celebrate Edinburgh under the epithet here borrowed. But the " Queen of 
the North " has not been so fortunate as to receive from so eminent a pen the 
proposed distinction. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. iy$ 

Since on her dusky summit ranged, 
Within its steepy limits pent, 
By bulwark, line, and battlement, 
And flanking towers, and laky flood, 
Guarded and garrison'd she stood, 
Denying entrance or resort, 
Save at each tall embattled port ; 
Above whose arch, suspended, hung 
Portcullis spiked with iron prong. 
That long is gone, — but not so long, 
Since, early closed, and opening late, 
Jealous revolved the studded gate, 
Whose task, from eve to morning tide, 
A wicket churlishly supplied. 
Stern then, and steel-girt was thy brow, 
Dun-Edin ! O, how alter' d now, 
When safe amid thy mountain court 
Thou sitt'st, like Empress at her sport, 
And liberal, unconfined, and free, 
Flinging thy white arms to the sea, 1 
For thy dark cloud, with umber'd lower, 
That hung o'er cliff, and lake, and tower, 
Thou gleam 'st against the western ray 
Ten thousand lines of brighter day. 

Not she, the Championess of old, 
In Spenser's magic tale enroll'd, 
She for the charmed spear renown'd, 

1 Since writing this line, I find I have inadvertently borrowed it almost 
verbatim, though with somewhat a different meaning, from a chorus in " Carac- 
tacus " : — 

" Britain heard the descant bold, 

She flung her white arms o'er the sea, 
Proud in her leafy bosom to enfold 
The freight of harmony." 



I -6 MARMION, 



Which forced each knight to kiss the ground, — 

Not she more changed, when, placed at rest, 

What time she was Malbecco's guest, 1 

She gave to flow her maiden vest ; 

When from the corselet's grasp relieved, 

Free to the sight her bosom heaved ; 

Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile, 

Erst hidden by the aventayle ; 

And down her shoulders graceful roll'd 

Her locks profuse, of paly gold. 

They who whilom, in midnight fight, 

Had marvell'd at her matchless might, 

No less her maiden charms approved, 

But looking liked, and liking loved. 2 

The sight could jealous pangs beguile, 

And charm Malbecco's cares a while ; 

xA.nd he, the wandering Squire of Dames, 

Forgot his Columbella's claims, 

And passion, erst unknown, could gain 

The breast of blunt Sir Satyrane ; 

Nor durst light Paridel advance, 

Bold as he was, a looser glance. 

She charm'd, at once, and tamed the heart, 

Incomparable Britomarte 1 

So thou, fair City ! disarray'd 
Of battled wall, and rampart's aid, 
x-\s stately seem'st, but lovelier far 
Than in that panoply of war. 
Nor deem that from thy fenceless throne 
Strength and security are flown ; 

1 See " The Fairy Queen," book in., canto ix. 

2 " For every one her liked, and every one her loved." 

Spenser, as above. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. iyy 

Still as of yore, Queen of the North ! 
Still canst thou send thy children forth. 
Ne'er readier at alarm-bell's call 
Thy burghers rose to man thy wall, 
Than now, in danger, shall be thine, 
Thy dauntless voluntary line ; 
For fosse and turret proud to stand, 
Their breasts the bulwarks of the land. 
Thy thousands, train'd to martial toil, 
Full red would stain their native soil, 
Ere from thy mural crown there fell 
The slightest knosp, or pinnacle. 
And if it come, — as come it may, 
Dun-Edin ! that eventful day, — 
Renown'd for hospitable deed, 
That virtue much with Heaven may plead, 
In patriarchal times whose care 
Descending angels deign'd to share ; 
That claim may wrestle blessings down 
On those who fight for The Good Town, 
Destined in every age to be 
Refuge of injured royalty; 
Since first, when conquering York arose, 
To Henry meek she gave repose, 1 

1 Henry VI., with his Queen, his heir, and the chiefs of his family, fled to 
Scotland after the fatal battle of Towton. In this note a doubt was formerly 
expressed whether Henry VI. came to Edinburgh, though his Queen certainly 
did; Mr. Pinkerton inclining to believe that he remained at Kirkcudbright. 
But my noble friend, Lord Napier, has pointed out to me a grant by Henry, of 
an annuity of forty marks to his Lordship's ancestor, John Napier, subscribed 
by the King himself at Edinburgh, the 28th day of August, in the thirty-ninth 
year of his reign, which corresponds to the year of God 1461. This grant, 
Douglas, with his usual neglect of accuracy, dates in 1368. But this error being 
corrected from the copy in Macfarlane's MSS., pp. 119-20, removes all skepti- 
cism on the subject of Henry VI. being really at Edinburgh. John Napier was 
son and heir of Sir Alexander Naoier, and about this time was Provost of 



178 MARMION. 



Till late, with wonder, grief, and awe, 
Great Bourbon's relics, sad she saw. 1 

Truce to these thoughts ! for, as they rise, 
How gladly I avert mine eyes, 
Bodings, or true or false, to change, 
For Fiction's fair romantic range, 
Or for Tradition's dubious light, 
That hovers 'twixt the day and night : 
Dazzling alternately and dim, 
Her wavering lamp I'd rather trim, 
Knights, squires, and lovely dames to see, 
Creation of my fantasy, 
Than gaze abroad on reeky fen, 9 
And make of mists invading men. — 
Who loves not more the night of June 
Than dull December's gloomy noon ? 
The moonlight than the fog of frost ? 
But can we say which cheats the most ? 

Edinburgh. The hospitable reception of the distressed monarch and his 
family called forth on Scotland the encomium of Molinet, a contemporary poet. 
The English people, he says, — 

Ung ?io?iv eau roy creere7it, 
Par despite7cx vouloir, 
Le vieil e7i debo7itere7it, 

Et so7i legiti7/te hoir, 
Qui fnytyf alia pre7idre 

D'Escosse le gara7id, 
De tous siecles le 77ie7idre, 

Et I e phis tollera7it." 

Recollections des Avantures. 

1 [In January, 1796, the exiled Count d'Artois, afterward Charles X. of 
France, took up his residence in Holyrood, where he remained until August, 
1799. When again driven from his country by the Revolution of July, 1830, the 
same unfortunate Prince, with all the immediate members of his family, sought 
refuge once more in the ancient palace of the Stuarts, and remained there until 
18th September, 1832.] 

2 [MS. — " Than gaze out on the foggy fen."] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO FIFTH. 



l 79 



But who shall teach my harp to gain 
A sound of the romantic strain, 
Whose Anglo-Norman tones whilere 
Could win the royal Henry's ear, 1 
Famed Beauclerk call'd, for that he loved 
The minstrel, and his lay approved? 
Who shall these lingering notes redeem, 
Decaying on Oblivion's stream ; 
Such notes as from the Breton tongue 
Marie translated, Blondel sung ? — 
O ! born, Time's ravage to repair, 
And make the dying Muse thy care ; 
Who, when his scythe her hoary foe 
Was poising for the final blow, 
The weapon from his hand could wring, 
And break his glass, and shear his wing, 
And bid, reviving in his strain, 
The gentle poet live again ; 
Thou, who canst give to lightest lay 
An unpedantic moral gay, 
Nor less the dullest theme bid flit 
On wings of unexpected wit ; 
In letters as in life approved, 
Example honor'd, and beloved, — 
Dear Ellis ! to the bard impart 
A lesson of thy magic art, 

1 Mr. Ellis, in his valuable Introduction to the " Specimens of Romance," 
has proved by the concurring testimony of La Ravaillere, Tressan, but espe- 
cially the Abbe de la Rue, that the courts of our Anglo-Norman Kings, rather 
than those of the French monarch, produced the birth of Romance literature. 
Marie, soon after mentioned, compiled from Armorican originals, and translated 
into Norman-French, or romance language, the twelve curious Lays, of which 
Mr. Ellis has given us a. precis in the Appendix to his Introduction. The story 
of Blondel, the famous and faithful minstrel of Richard I., needs no commen- 
tary. 



l8o MARMION. 



To win at once the head and heart, — 
At once to charm, instruct, and mend, 
My guide, my pattern, and my friend ! l 

Such minstrel lesson to bestow 
Be long thy pleasing task, — but, O ! 
No more by thy example teach, — 
What few can practise, all can preach, — 
With even patience to endure 
Lingering disease, and painful cure, 
And boast affliction's pangs subdued 
By mild and manly fortitude. 
Enough, the lesson has been given : 
Forbid the repetition, Heaven ! 

Come, listen, then ! for thou hast known, 
And loved the Minstrel's varying tone, 
Who, like his Border sires of old, 
W r aked a wild measure rude and bold, 
Till Windsor's oaks, and Ascot plain, 
With wonder heard the northern strain. 2 
Come, listen ! bold in thy applause, 
The Bard shall scorn pedantic laws ; 
And, as the ancient art could stain 
Achievements on the storied pane, 
Irregularly traced and plann'd, 
But yet so glowing and so grand, — 
So shall he strive in changeful hue, 
Field, feast, and combat to renew, 
And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee, 
And all the pomp of chivalry. 

1 [" Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, 

O master of the poet and the song ! " — Pope to Doli7igbroke?\ 

2 [At Sunning-hill, Mr. Ellis's seat, near Windsor, part of the first two cantos 
of Marmion were written.] 



Cant* Ifififr 



THE COURT. 

I. 

The train has left the hills of Braid ; 
The barrier guard have open made 
(So Lindesay bade) the palisade, 

That closed the tented ground ; 
Their men the warders backward drew, 
And carried pikes as they rode through, 

Into its ample bound. 1 
Fast ran the Scottish warriors there, 
Upon the Southern band to stare. 
And envy with their wonder rose, 
To see such well-appointed foes ; 
Such length of shafts, such mighty bows, 2 
So huge, that many simply thought, 
But for a vaunt such weapons wrought ; 
And little deem'd their force to feel, 
Through links of mail, and plates of steel, 

1 [MS. — " The barrier guard the. Lion knew, 

Advanced their pikes, and soon withdrew 
The slender palisades and few 

That closed the tented ground ; 
And Marmion with his train rode through, 
Across its ample bound."] 
- [MS. — " So long their shafts, so large their bows."] 



1 82 MARMION. [canto v. 

When rattling upon Flodden vale, 
The cloth-yard arrows flew like hail. 1 

II. 
Nor less did Marmion's skilful view 
Glance every line and squadron thrcugh ; 
And much he marvell'd one small land 
Could marshal forth such various band : 

For men-at-arms were here, 
Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, 
Like iron towers for strength and weight, 
On Flemish steeds of bone and height, 

With battle-axe and spear. 
Young knights and squires, a lighter train, 
Practised their chargers on the plain, 2 
By aid of leg, of hand, and rein, 

Each warlike feat to show, 
To pass, to wheel, the croupe to gain, 
And high curvett, that not in vain 
The sword sway might descend amain 

On foeman's casque below. 3 

1 This is no poetical exaggeration. In some of the counties of England, 
distinguished for archery, shafts of this extraordinary length were actually used. 
Thus at the battle of Blackheath, between the troops of Henry VII. and the 
Cornish insurgents, in 1496, the bridge of Dartford was defended by a picked 
band of archers from the rebel army, " whose arrows," says Holinshed, " were 
in length a full cloth yard." The Scottish, according to Ascham, had a proverb 
that every English archer carried under his belt twenty-four Scotts, in allusion 
to his bundle of unerring shafts. 

2 [MS. — " There urged their chargers on the plain."] 

3 " The most useful air, as the Frenchman term it, is territerr; the cour- 
bettes, cabrioles, or un pas et tin sault, being fitter for horses of parade and 
triumph than for soldiers : yet I cannot deny but a demivolte with courbettes, so 
that they be not too high, may be useful in a fight or meelee : for, as Labroue 
hath it in his Book of Horsemanship, Monsieur de Montmorency having a 
horse that was excellent in performing the demivolte, did, with his sword, strike 
down two adversaries from their horses in a tourney, where divers of the prime 



canto v.] THE COURT. !8 3 

He saw the hardy burghers there 
March arm'd, on foot, with faces bare, 1 

For vizor they wore none, 
Nor waving plume, nor crest of knight ; 
But burnish'd were their corslets bright, 
Their brigantines, and gorgets light, 

Like very silver shone. 
Long pikes they had for standing fight, 

Two-handed swords they wore, 
And many wielded mace of weight, 2 

And bucklers bright they bore. 

III. 
On foot the yeoman too, but dress'd 
In his steel-jack, a swarthy vest, 

With iron quilted well. 
Each at his back (a slender store) 
His forty days' provision bore, 

As feudal statutes tell. 
His arms were halbert, axe, or spear, 3 

gallants of France did meet ; for, taking his time, when the horse was in the 
height of his courbette, and discharging a blow then, his sword fell with such 
weight and force upon the two cavaliers, one after another, that he struck them 
from their horses to the ground." — Lord Herbert of ' Cherbury 's Life, p. 48. 

1 The Scottish burgesses were, like yeomen, appointed to be armed with 
bows and sheaves, sword, buckler, knife, spear, or a good axe instead of a bow, 
if worth £ 100 : their armor to be of white or bright harness. They wore white 
hats, i.e., bright steel caps, without crest or vizor. By an act of James IV. their 
weap07i-schawings are appointed to be held four times a year, under the alder- 
men and bailiffs. 

2 TMS. — " And malls did manv / wield X of weight."] 
L ' I bear J 

3 Bows and quivers were in vain recommended to the peasantry of Scotland 
by repeated statutes ; spears and axes seem universally to have been used 
instead of them. Their defensive armor was the plate-jack, hauberk, or brig- 
antine ; and their missile weapons, crossbows and culverins. All wore swords 
of excellent temper, according to Patten ; and a voluminous handkerchief round 



1 84 MARMION. [canto v. 

A crossbow there, a hagbut here, 

A dagger-knife, and brand. 
Sober he seem'd, and sad of cheer, 
As loth to leave his cottage dear, 
And march to foreign strand ; 
Or musing, who would guide his steer, 

To till the fallow land. 
Yet deem not in his thoughtful eye 
Did aught of dastard terror lie ; 

More dreadful far his ire, 
Than theirs, who, scorning danger's name, 
In eager mood to battle came, 
Their valor like light straw on flame, 

A fierce but fading fire. 

IV. 
Not so the Borderer : — bred to war, 
He knew the battle's din afar, 

And joy'd to hear it swell. 
His peaceful day was slothful ease ; 
Nor harp, nor pipe, his ear could please, 

Like the loud slogan yell. 
On active steed, with lance and blade, 
The light-arm'd pricker plied his trade, — 

Let nobles fight for fame ; 
Let vassals follow where they lead, 

their neck, " not for cold, but for cutting." The mace also was much used in 
the Scottish army. The old poem on the battle of Flodden mentions a band — 
" Who manfully did meet their foes, 
With leaden mauls, and lances long." 
When the feudal array of the kingdom was called forth, each man was 
obliged to appear with forty days' provision. When this was expended, which 
took place before the battle of Flodden, the army melted away of course. 
Almost all the Scottish forces except a few knights, men-at-arms, and the 
Border-prickers, who formed excellent light-cavalry, acted upon foot. 



canto v.] THE COURT. ^5 

Burghers, to guard their townships, bleed, 

But war's the Borderer's game. 
Their gain, their glory, their delight, 
To sleep the day, maraud the night, 

O'er mountain, moss, and moor ; 
Joyful to fight they took their way, 
Scarce caring who might win the day, 

Their booty was secure. 
These, as Lord Marmion's train pass'd by, 
Look'd on at first with careless eye, 
Nor marvell'd aught, well taught to know 
The form and force of English bow. 
But when they saw the Lord array'd 
In splendid arms, and rich brocade, 
Each Borderer to his kinsman said, — 

'"' Hist, Ringan ! seest thou there ! 
Canst guess which road they'll homeward ride? — 
O ! could we but on Border side, 
By Eusedale glen, or Liddell's tide, 

Beset a prize so fair ! 
That fangless Lion, too, their guide, 
Might chance to lose his glistering hide ; 1 
Brown Maudlin, of that doublet pied, 

Could make a kirtle rare." 

V. 

Next, Marmion marked the Celtic race, 
Of different language, form, and face, 

1 [MS. — " Hist, Ringan ! seest thou there ! 

Canst guess what homeward road they take — 
By Eusedale glen, or Yetholm lake? 
O ! could we but by bush or brake 

Beset a prize so fair ! 
The fangless Lion, too, his guide, 
Might chance to lose his glittering hide."] 



1 86 MARMION. [canto v. 

A various race of man ; 
Just then the chiefs their tribes array'd, 
And wild and garish semblance made, 
The checker'd trews, and belted plaid, 
And varying notes the war-pipes bray'd, 

To every varying clan ; 
Wild through their red or sable hair 
Look'd out their eyes with savage stare, 1 

On Marmion as he pass'd ; 
Their legs above the knee were bare ; 
Their frame was sinewy, short, and spare, 

And harden'd to the blast ; 
Of taller race, the chiefs they own 
Were by the eagle's plumage known. 
The hunted red-deer's undress'd hide 
Their hairy buskins well supplied ; 
The graceful bonnet deck'd their head : 
Back from their shoulders hung the plaid ; 
A broadsword of unwieldy length, 
A dagger proved for edge and strength, 

A studded targe they wore, 
And quivers, bows, and shafts, — but, O ! 
Short was the shaft, and weak the bow, 

To that which England bore. 
The Isles-men carried at their backs 
The ancient Danish battle-axe. 
They raised a wild and wondering cry, 
As with his guide rode Marmion by. 
Loud were their clamoring tongues, as when 
The clan^ins: sea-fowl leave the fen, 
And, with their cries discordant mix'd, 
Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt. 

1 [MS. — " Wild from their red and swarthy hair 

Look'd through their eyes with savage stare."] 



canto v.] THE COURT. ify 

VI. 

Thus through the Scottish camp they pass'd, 

And reach'd the city gate at last, 

Where all around, a wakeful guard, 

Arm'd burghers kept their watch and ward. 

Well had they cause of jealous fear, 

When lay encamp 'd, in field so near, 

The Borderer and the Mountaineer. 

As through the bustling streets they go, 

All was alive with martial show : 

At every turn, with dinning clang, 

The armorer's anvil clash'd and rang ; 

Or toil'd the swarthy smith, to wheel 

The bar that arms the charger's heel ; 

Or axe, or falchion, to the side 

Of jarring grindstone was applied. 

Page, groom, and squire, with hurrying pace, 

Through street, and lane, and market-place, 

Bore lance, or casque, or sword ; 
While burghers, with important face, 

Described each new-come lord, 
Discuss'd his lineage, told his name, 
His following, 1 and his warlike fame. 
The Lion led to lodging meet, 
Which high o'erlook'd the crowded street ; 

There must the Baron rest, 
Till past the hour of vesper tide, 
And then to Holy-Rood must ride, — 

Such was the King's behest. 

1 Following — feudal retainers. — [This word, by the way, has been, since 
the Author of Marmion used it, and thought it called for explanation, com- 
pletely adopted into English, and especially into Parliamentary parlance. — 
Ed.] 



MARMION. [canto v 



Meanwhile the Lion's care assigns 
A banquet rich, and costly wines, 

To Marmion and his train ; l 
And when the appointed hour succeeds, 
The Baron dons his peaceful weeds, 
And following Lindesay as he leads, 

The palace-halls they gain. 

VII. 

Old Holy- Rood rung merrily, 
That night, with wassail, mirth, and glee : 
King James within her princely bower 
Feasted the Chiefs of Scotland's power, 
Summon'd to spend the parting hour ; 
For he had charg'd, that his array 
Should southward march by break of day. 
Well loved that splendid monarch aye 

The banquet and the song, 
By day the tourney, and by night 
The merry dance, traced fast and light, 
The maskers quaint, the pageant bright, 

The revel loud and long. 
This feast outshone his banquets past ; 
It was his blithest, — and his last. 
The dazzling lamps, from gallery gay, 
Cast on the Court a dancing ray ; 
Here to the harp did minstrels sing ; 

1 In all transactions of great or petty importance, and among whomsoever 
taking place, it would seem that a present of wine was a uniform and indispen- 
sable preliminary. It was not to Sir John Falstaff alone that such an introduc- 
tory preface was necessary, however well judged and acceptable on the part of 
Mr. Brook ; for Sir Ralph Sadler, while on an embassy to Scotland in 1539-40, 
mentions with complacency, "the same night came Rothesay (the herald so 
called) to me again, and brought me wine from the King, both white and red." 
— Clifford's Edition, p. 39. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 



There ladies touched a softer string ; 
With long-ear'd cap, and motley vest, 
The licensed fool retail'd his jest ; 
His magic tricks the juggler plied ; 
At dice and draughts the gallants vied ; 
While some, in close recess apart, 
Courted the ladies of their heart, 

Nor courted them in vain ; 
For often, in the parting hour, 
Victorious love asserts his power 

Or coldness and disdain ; 
And flinty is her heart, can view 
To battle march a lover true — 
Can hear, perchance, his last adieu, 

Nor own her share of pain. 

VIII. 

Through this mix'd crowd of glee and game, 
The King to greet Lord Marmion came, 

While, reverent, all made room. 
An easy task it was, I trow, 
King James's manly form to know, 
Although, his courtesy to show, 
He doff'd, to Marmion bending low, 

His broider'd cap and plume. 
For royal was his garb and mien, 

His cloak, of crimson velvet piled, 

Trimm'd with the fur of martin wild ; 
His vest of changeful satin sheen, 

The dazzled eye beguiled ; 
His gorgeous collar hung adown, 
Wrought with the badge of Scotland's crown, 1 

1 [MS. — " Bearing the badge of Scotland's crown."] 



I go M ARM ION. [canto v. 

The thistle brave, of old renown : 
His trusty blade, Toledo right, 1 
Descended from a baldric bright ; 
White were his buskins, on the heel 
His spurs inlaid of gold and steel ; 
His bonnet, all of crimson fair, 
Was button'd with a ruby rare : 
And Marmion deem'd he ne'er had seen 
A prince of such a noble mien. 

IX. 

The monarch's form was middle size : 
For feat of strength, or exercise, 

Shaped in proportion fair ; 
And hazel was his eagle eye, 
And auburn of the darkest dye, 

His short curl'd beard and hair. 
Light was his footstep in the dance, 

And firm his stirrup in the lists : 
And, oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists. 
Lightly from fair to fair he flew, 
And loved to plead, lament, and sue, — 
Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, 
For monarchs seldom sigh in vain. 

I said he joy'd in banquet bower ; 
But, 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange, 
How suddenly his cheer would change, 

1 [MS. — " His trusty blade, Toledo right, 

Descended from a baldric bright, 

And dangled at his knee : 
White were his buskins ; from their heel 
His spurs inlaid | of gold and steel 
His fretted spurs j 
Were jingling merrily."] 



CANTO v.] THE COURT. 1^1 

His look o'ercast and lower, 
If, in a sudden turn, he felt 
The pressure of his iron belt, 
That bound his breast in penance pain, 
In memory of his father slain. 1 
Even so 'twas strange, how evermore, 
Soon as the passing pang was o'er, 
Forward he rush'd, with double glee, 
Into the stream of revelry : 
Thus, dim-seen object of affright 
Startles the courser in his flight, 
And half he halts, half springs aside ; 
But feels the quickening spur applied, 

1 Few readers need to be reminded of this belt, to the weight of which James 
added certain ounces every year that he lived. Pitscottie founds his belief that 
James was not slain in the battle of Flodden, because the English never had this 
token of the iron-belt to show to any Scottishman. The person and character 
of James are delineated according to our best historians. His romantic dispo- 
sition, which led him highly to relish gaiety, approaching to license, was, at the 
same time, tinged with enthusiastic devotion. The propensities sometimes 
formed a strange contrast. He was wont, during his fits of devotion, to assume 
the dress and conform to the rules of the order of Franciscans ; and when he 
had thus done penance for some time in Stirling, to plunge again into the tide 
of pleasure. Probably, too, with no unusual inconsistency, he sometimes 
laughed at the superstitious observances to which he at other times subjected 
himself. There is a very singular poem by Dunbar, seemingly addressed to 
James IV., on one of these occasions of monastic seclusion. It is a most daring 
and profane parody on the services of the Church of Rome, entitled, — 

" Dunbar's Dirige to the King, 
Byding ower lang in Striviling. 
We that are here, in heaven's glory, 
To you that are in Purgatory, 
Commend us on our hearty wise; 
I mean we folks in Paradise, 
In Edinburgh, with all merriness, 
To you in Stirling, with distress, 
Where neither pleasure nor delight is, 
For pity this epistle wrytis," &c. 

See the whole in Sibbald's Collection, vol. i. p. 234. 



192 M ARM ION. [canto v. 

And, straining on the tighten'd rein, 
Scours doubly swift o'er hill and plain. 

X. 

O'er James's heart, the courtiers say, 
Sir Hugh the Heron's wife held sway : 1 

To Scotland's Court she came, 
To be a hostage for her lord, 
Who Cessford's gallant heart had gored, 
And with the King to make accord, 

Had sent his lovely dame. 
Nor to that lady free alone 
Did the gay King allegiance own; 

For the fair Queen of France 
Sent him a turquoise ring and glove, 
And charged him as her knight and love, 

For her to break a lance ; 
And strike three strokes with Scottish brand, 2 

1 It has been already noticed [see note to stanza xiii. of canto i.] that King 
James's acquaintance with Lady Heron of Ford did not commence until he 
marched into England. Our historians impute to the King's infatuated passion 
the delays which led to the fatal defeat of Flodden. The author of " The Gene- 
alogy of the Heron Family " endeavors, with laudable anxiety, to clear the Lady 
Ford from this scandal: that she came and went, however, between the armies 
of James and Surrey, is certain. See PlNKERTON'S History, and the authori- 
ties he refers to, vol. ii. p. 99. Heron of Ford had been, in 1511, in some sort 
accessory to the slaughter of Sir Robert Kerr of Cessford, Warden of the 
Middle Marches. It was committed by his brother the bastard, Lilburn, and 
Starked, three Borderers. Lilburn and Heron of Ford were delivered up by 
Henry to James, and were imprisoned in the fortress of Fastcastle, where the 
former died. Part of the pretence of Lady Ford's negotiations with James was 
the liberty of her husband. 

3 " Also the Queen of France wrote a love-letter to the King of Scotland, 
calling him her love, showing him that she had suffered much rebuke in France 
for the defending of his honor. She believed surely that he would recompense 
her again with some of his kingly support in her necessity ; that is to say, that 
he would raise her an army, and come three foot of ground on English ground 



canto v.J THE COURT. 1^3 

And march three miles on Southron land, 

And bid the banners of his band 
In English breezes dance. 

And thus, for France's Queen he drest 

His manly limbs in mailed vest ; 

And thus admitted English fair 

His inmost councils still to share ; 

And thus, for both, he madly plann'd 

The ruin of himself and land ! 
And yet, the sooth to tell, 

Nor England's fair, nor France's Queen, 1 

Were worth one pearl-drop, bright and sheen, 
From Margaret's eyes that fell, — 
His own Queen Margaret, who, in Lithgow's bower, 
All lonely sat, and wept the weary hour. 

XL 

The Queen sits lone in Lithgow pile, 

And weeps the weary day, 
The war against her native soil, 
Her monarch's risk in battle broil : — 
And in gay Holy-Rood, the while, 
Dame Heron rises with a smile 

Upon the harp to play. 
Fair was her rounded arm, as o'er 

The strings her fingers flew ; 
And as she touch'd and tun'd them all, 

for her sake. To that effect she sent him a ring off her finger, with fourteen 
thousand French crowns to pay his expenses." PlTSCOTTlE, p. no. — A tur- 
quoise ring, probably this fatal gift, is, with James's sword and dagger, preserved 
in the College of Heralds, London. 

1 [MS. — " Nor France's Queen, nor England's fair, 
Were worth one pearl-drop, passing rare, 
From Margaret's eyes that fell."] 



194 



MARMION. 



Ever her bosom's rise and fall 
Was plainer given to view ; 
For, all for heat, was laid aside 
— Her wimple, and her hood untied. 1 
And first she pitch'd her voice to sing, 
Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
And then around the silent ring ; 
And laugh'd, and blush'd, and oft did say 
Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, 
She could not, would not, durst not play ! 
At length, upon the harp, with glee, 
Mingled with arch simplicity, 
A soft, yet lively, air she rung 
While thus the wily lady sung : 

XII. 

LOCHINVAR. 2 

O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
And save his good broad sword, he weapons had none, 
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

i [The MS. has only — 

" For, all for heat, was laid aside 
Her wimpled hood and gorget's pride, 
And on the righted harp with glee, 
Mingled with arch simplicity, 
A soft, yet lively, air she rang, 
While thus her voice attendant sang."] 

2 The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded on a ballad called 
" Katharine Janfarie," which may be found in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border," vol. iii. 




'Then glanced her dark eye on the King, 
And then around the silent ring;." 

Canto v. 11. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 195 

He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, 

He swam the Esk river where ford there was none ; 

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Loch invar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 

Among bride 's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : 

Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 

" O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar? " — 

" I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — ] 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kiss'd the goblet : the knight took it up, 
He quaff 'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 
" Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

1 [See the novel of Redgauntlet for a detailed picture of some of the extraor- 
dinary phenomena of the spring-tides in the Solway Firth.] 



196 M ARM/OAT. [canto v. 



And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume ; 
And the bride-maidens whisper' d, " 'Twere better by far, 
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 

When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; 

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 

" She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran : 

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 

XIII. 

The monarch o'er the siren hung, 
And beat the measure as she sung ; 
And, pressing closer, and more near, 
He whisper'd praises in her ear. 
In loud applause the courtiers vied ; 
And ladies wink'd, and spoke aside. 

The witching dame to Marmion threw 
A glance, where seem'd to reign 

The pride that claims applauses due, 

And of her royal conquest too, 
A real or feign 'd disdain : 
Familiar was the look, and told, 
Marmion and she were friends of old. 
The King observed their meeting eyes, 



canto v.] THE COURT 1 97 

With something like displeased surprise ; 
For monarchs ill can rivals brook, 
Even in a word, or smile, or look. 
Straight took he forth the parchment broad, 
Which Marmion's high commission show'd : 
" Our Borders sack'd by many a raid, 
Our peaceful liege-men robb'd," he said ; 
" On day of truce our Warden slain, 
Stout Barton kill'd, his vessels ta'en — 
Unworthy were we here to reign, 
Should these for vengeance cry in vain ; 
Our full defiance, hate, and scorn, 
Our herald has to Henry borne." 

XIV. 
He paused, and led where Douglas stood, 
And with stern eye the pageant view'd : 
I mean that Douglas, sixth of yore, 
Who coronet of Angus bore, 
And, when his blood and heart were high, 1 
Did the third James in camp defy, 
And all his minions led to die 

On Lauder's dreary flat : 
Princes and favorites long grew tame, 
And trembled at the homely name 

Of Archibald Bell-the-Cat ; 2 
The same who left the dusky vale 
Of Hermitage in Liddisdale, 

Its dungeons, and its towers, 
Where BothwelPs turrets brave the air, 

1 [MS. — " And when his blood and heart were high, 
King James's minions led to die, 
On Lauder's dreary flat."] 
' l [Bell-the-Cat, see Appendix, Note M.] 



198 M ARM I ON. [canto v. 

And Bothwell bank is blooming fair, 

To fix his princely bowers. 
Though now, in age, he had laid down 
His armor for the peaceful gown, 

And for a staff his brand, 
Yet often would flash forth the fire, 
That could, in youth, a monarch's ire 

And minion's pride withstand ; 
And even that day, at council board, 

Unapt to soothe his sovereign's mood, 

Against the war had Angus stood, 
And chafed his royal LordJ 

XV. 

His giant-form, like ruin'd tower, 
Though fall'n its muscles' brawny vaunt, 
Huge-boned, and tall, and grim, and gaunt, 

Seem'd o'er the gaudy scene to lower : 
His locks and beard in silver grew : 
His eyebrows kept their sable hue. 
Near Douglas when the Monarch stood, 
His bitter speech he thus pursued : — 
"Lord Marmion, since these letters say 
That in the North you needs must stay, 

While slightest hopes of peace remain, 

1 Angus was an old man when the war against England was resolved upon. 
He earnestly spoke against that measure from its commencement; and, on the 
eve of the battle of Flodden, remonstrated so freely upon the impolicy of fight- 
ing, that the King said to him with scorn and indignation, " if he was afraid he 
might go home." The Earl burst into tears at this insupportable insult, and 
retired accordingly, leaving his sons, George, Master of Angus, and Sir William 
of Glenbervie, to command his followers. They were both slain in the battle, 
with two hundred gentlemen of the name of Douglas. The aged Earl, broken- 
hearted at the calamities of his house and his country, retired into a religious 
house, where he died about a year after the field of Flodden. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 199 

Uncourteous speech it were and stern, 
To say — Return to Lindisfarne, 

Until my herald come again. — 
Then rest you in Tantallon Hold ; l 
Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — 
A chief unlike his sires of old. 



] The ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high rock projecting into the Ger- 
man Ocean, about two miles east of North Berwick. The building is not seen 
till a close approach, as there is rising ground betwixt 1t and the land. The 
circuit is of large extent, fenced upon three sides by the precipice which over- 
hangs the sea, and on the fourth by a double ditch and very strong outworks. 
Tantallon was a principal castle of the Douglas family, and when the Earl of 
Angus was banished, in 1527, it continued to hold out against James V. The 
King went in person against it, and, for its reduction borrowed from the Castle 
of Dunbar, then belonging to the Duke of Albany, two great cannons, whose 
names, as Pitscottie informs us with laudable minuteness, were " Thrawn-mouth'd 
Meg and her Marrow " ; also " two great botcards, and two moyan, two double 
falcons, and four quarter falcons " ; for the safe guiding and re-delivery of which, 
three lords were laid in pawn at Dunbar. Yet, notwithstanding all this appara- 
tus, James was forced to raise the siege, and only afterwards obtained possession 
of Tantallon by treaty with the governor, Simon Panango. When the Earl of 
Angus returned from banishment, upon the death of James, he again obtained 
possession of Tantallon, and it actually afforded refuge to an English ambassa- 
dor, under circumstances similar to these described in the text. This was no 
other than the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, who resided there for some time 
under Angus's protection, after the failure of his negotiation for matching the 
infant Mary with Edward VI. He says that though this place was poorly 
furnished, it was of such strength as might warrant him against the malice of 
his enemies, and that he now thought himself out of danger* 

There is a military tradition that the old Scottish March was meant to 
express the words, 

Ding down Tantallon, 
Mak a brig to the Bass. 

Tantallon was at length " dung down " and ruined by the Covenanters, its 
lord, the Marquis of Douglas, being a favorer of the royal cause. The castle 
and barony were sold in the beginning of the eighteenth century to President 
Dalrymple of North Berwick, by the then Marquis of Douglas. 

* The very curious State Papers of this able negotiator were, in 1810, published by Mr. 
Clifford, with some notes by the author of Marmion. 



200 MARMION. [canto v. 

He wears their motto on his blade. 1 
Their blazon o'er his towers display'd ; 
Yet loves his sovereign to oppose, 
More than to face his country's foes. 
And, I bethink me, by Saint Stephen, 

But e'en this morn to me was given 2 
A prize, the first fruits of the war, 
Ta'en by a galley from Dunbar, 

A bevy of the maids of Heaven. 
Under your guard, these holy maids 
Shall safe return to cloister shades, 
And, while they at Tantallon stay, 
Requiem for Cochran's soul may say." 
And, with the slaughter'd favorite's name, 
Across the Monarch's brow there came 
A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame. 



1 A very ancient sword, in possession of Lord Douglas, bears, among a 
great deal of flourishing, two hands pointing to a heart which is placed betwixt 
them, and the date 1329, being the year in which Bruce charged the good Lord 
Douglas to carry his heart to the Holy Land. The following lines (the first 
couplet of which is quoted by Godscroft as a popular saying in his time) are 
inscribed around the emblem : — 

" So mony guid as of ye Dovglas beinge, 
Of ane surname was ne'er in Scotland seine. 

I will ye charge, efter yat I depart, 

To holy grawe, and thair bury my hart ; 
Let it remane ever bothe tyme and howr, 
To ye last day I sie my Saviour. 

I do protest intyme of al my ringe, 
Ye lyk subject had never ony keing." 

This curious and valuable relic was nearly lost during the Civil War of 
1745-6, being carried away from Douglas-Castle by some of those in arms for 
Prince Charles. But great interest having been made by the Duke of Douglas 
among the chief partisans of the Stuart, it was at length restored. It resembles 
a Highland claymore of the usual size, is of an excellent temper, and admirably 
poised. 

2 [MS. — " But yester morn was hither driven."] 



canto v.] THE COURT. 2 OI 



XVI. 

In answer not could Angus speak ; 

His proud heart swelFd well nigh to break : 

He turn'd aside, and down his cheek 

A burning tear there stole. 
His hand the Monarch sudden took, 
That sight his kind heart could not brook : 

Now, by the Bruce's soul, 1 
Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! 
For sure as doth his spirit live, 
As he said of the Douglas old, 

I well may say of you, — 
That never King did subject hold, 
In speech more free, in war more bold, 

More tender and more true : 2 
Forgive me, Douglas, once again." — 
And, while the King his hand did strain, 
The old man's tears fell down like rain. 
To seize the moment Marmion tried, 
And whisper'd to the King aside : 
" Oh ! let such tears unwonted plead 
For respite short from dubious deed ! 
A child will weep a bramble's smart, 
A maid to see her sparrow part, 3 
A stripling for a woman's heart : 
But woe awaits a country, when 
She sees the tears of bearded men. 
Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high, 
When Douglas wets his manly eye ! " 

1 [The two next lines are not in the original MS.] 
3 " O, Dowglas ! Dowglas ! 

Tendir and trew." — The Houlate. 
3 [MS. — "A maid to see her love depart."] 



202 MARMWN. [canto v. 

XVII. 

Displeased was James, that stranger view'd 

And tamper'd with his changing mood. 

" Laugh those that can, weep those that may," 

Thus did the fiery monarch say, 

" Southward I march by break of day ; 

And if within Tantallon strong, 

The good Lord Marmion tarries long, 

Perchance our meeting next may fall 

At Tam worth, in his castle-hall." — 

The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, 

And answer 'd, grave, the royal vaunt : 

" Much honor'd were my humble home, 

If in its halls King James should come ; 

But Nottingham has archers good, 

And Yorkshire men are stern of mood ; 

Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. 

On Derby Hills the paths are steep ; 

In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep ; 

And many a banner will be torn, 

And many a knight to earth be borne, 

And many a sheaf of arrows spent, 

Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent : 

Yet pause, brave Prince, while yet you may ! " — 

The Monarch lightly turn'd away, 

And to his nobles loud did call, — 

" Lords, to the dance, — a hall ! a hall ! " ] 

Himself his cloak and sword flung by, 

And led Dame Heron gallantly ; 

And Minstrels, at the royal order, 

Rung out — " Blue Bonnets o'er the Border." 

1 The ancient cry to make room for a dance, or pageant. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 203 

XVIII. 
Leave we these revels now, to tell 
What to Saint Hilda's maids befell, 
Whose galley, as they sail'd again 
To Whitby, by a Scot was ta'en. 
Now at Dun-Edin did they bide, 
Till James should of their fate decide ; 

And soon, by his command, 
Were gently summon'd to prepare 
To journey under MarmionVcare, 
As escort honor'd, safe, and fair, 

Again to English land. 
The Abbess told her chaplet o'er, 
Nor knew which Saint she should implore ; 
For, when she thought of Constance, sore 

She fear'd Lord Marmion's mood. 
And judge what Clara must have felt ! 
The sword, that hung in Marmion's belt, 

Had drunk De Wilton's blood. 
Unwittingly, King James had given, 

As guard to Whitby's shades, 
The man most dreaded under heaven 

By these defenceless maids : 
Yet what petition could avail, 
Or who would listen to the tale 
Of woman, prisoner, and nun, 
Mid bustle of a war begun ? 
They deem'd it hopeless to avoid 
The convoy of their dangerous guide. 

XIX. 

Their lodging, so the King assign'd, 
To Marmion's, as their guardian, join'd ; 



204 M ARM ION. [canto v. 

And thus it fell, that, passing nigh, 
The Palmer caught the Abbess' eye, 

Who warn'd him by a scroll, 
She had a secret to reveal, 
That much concern'd the Church's weal, 

And health of sinner's soul ; 
And, with deep charge of secrecy, 

She named a place to meet, 
Within an open balcony, 
That hung from dizzy pitch, and high, 

Above the stately street ; 
To which, as common to each home, 
At night they might in secret come. 



XX. 

At night, in secret, there they came, 
The Palmer and the holy dame. 
The moon among the clouds rose high, 
And all the city hum was by. 
Upon the street, where late before 
Did din of war and warriors roar, 

You might have heard a pebble fall, 
A beetle hum, a cricket sing, 
An owlet flap his boding wing 

On Giles's steeple tall. 
The antique buildings, climbing high, 
Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, 

Were here wrapt deep in shade ; 
There on their brows the moon-beam broke, 
Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, 

And on the casements play'd. 

And other light was none to see, 
Save torches gliding far, — 



canto v.] THE COURT. 205 

Before some chieftain of degree, 

Who left the royal revelry 

To bowne him for the war. — 
A solemn scene the Abbess chose ; 
A solemn hour, her secret to disclose. 

XXI. 

"Oh, holy Palmer ! " she began, — 
" For sure he must be sainted man, 
Whose blessed feet have trod the ground 
Where the Redeemer's tomb is found, — 
For his dear Church's sake, my tale 
Attend, nor deem of light avail, 
Though I must speak of worldly love, — 
How vain to those who wed above ! — 
De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd l 
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood ; 
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame, 
To say of that same blood I came ;) 
And once, when jealous rage was high, 
Lord Marmion said despiteously, 
Wilton was traitor in his heart, 
And had made league with Martin Swart, 2 

1 [" There are passages in which the flatness and tediousness of the narrative 
is relieved by no sort of beauty nor elegance of diction, and which form an 
extraordinary contrast with the more animated and finished portions of the 
poem. We shall not afflict our readers with more than one specimen of this 
falling off. We select it from the Abbess's explanation to De Wilton : — 

' De Wilton and Lord Marmion woo'd,' &c, 
and twenty-two following lines." — Jeffrey.] 

2 A German general, who commanded the auxiliaries sent by the Duchess of 
Burgundy with Lambert Simnel. He was defeated and killed at Stokefield. 
The name of this German general is preserved by that of the field of battle, 
which is called, after him, Swart-moor. — There were songs about him long 
current in England. — See Dissertation prefixed to RlTSON'S Ancient Songs, 
1792, p. lxi. 



206 MARMION. [canto v. 

When he came here on Simnel's part ; 

And only cowardice did restrain 

His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain, ■ — 

And down he threw his glove : — the thing 

Was tried, as wont, before the King ; 

Where frankly did De Wilton own, 

That Swart in Guelders he had known ; 

And that between them then there went 

Some scroll of courteous compliment. 

For this he to his castle sent ; 

But when his messenger return'd, 

Judge how De Wilton's fury burn'd ! 

For in his packet there were laid 

Letters that claim'd disloyal aid, 

And proved King Henry's cause betray'd. 

His fame, thus blighted, in the held 

He strove to clear, by spear and shield ; — 

To clear his fame in vain he strove, 

For wondrous are His ways above ! 

Perchance some form was unobserved ; 

Perchance in prayer, or faith, he swerved ; 1 



1 It was early necessary for those who felt themselves obliged to believe in 
the divine judgment being enunciated in the trial by duel, to find salvos for the 
strange and obviously precarious chances of the combat. Various curious 
evasive shifts, used by those who took up an unrighteous quarrel, were supposed 
sufficient to convert it into a just one. Thus, in the romance of "Amys and 
Amelion," the one brother-in-arms fighting for the other, disguised in his armor, 
swears that he did not commit the crime of which the Steward, his antagonist 
truly, though maliciously accused him whom he represented. Brantome tells a 
story of an Italian who entered the lists upon an unjust quarrel, but, to make his 
cause good, fled from his enemy at the first onset. " Turn, coward ! " exclaimed 
his antagonist. " Thou liest," said the Italian, "coward am I none; and in 
this quarrel will I fight to the death, but my first cause of combat was unjust, 
and I abandoned it." " Jc vous laisse a pcftser," adds Brantome, " s'il n'y a pas 
de I'afrus la." Elsewhere he says, very sensibly, upon the confidence which 
those who had a righteous cause entertained of victory: — " Un atitre abus y 



canto v.] THE COURT. 207 

Else how could guiltless champion quail, 
Or how the blessed ordeal fail? 



XXII. 

" His squire, who now De Wilton saw 
As recreant doom'd to suffer law, 

Repentant, own'd in vain, 
That, while he had the scrolls in care, 
A stranger maiden, passing fair, 
Had drench'd him with a beverage rare, 

His words no faith could gain. 
With Clare alone he credence won, 
Who, rather than wed Marmion, 
Did to Saint Hilda's shrine repair, 
To give our house her livings fair, 
— And die a vestal vot'ress there. 

The impulse from the earth was given, 
But bent her to the paths of heaven. 
A purer heart, a lovelier maid, 
Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade, 
No, not since Saxon Edelfled \ 

Only one trace of earthly strain, 
That for her lover's loss 

She cherishes a sorrow vain, 
And murmurs at the cross. — 

And then her heritage ; — it goes 
Along the banks of Tame ; 

Deep fields of grain the reaper mows, 

avoit-il, que ceux qui avoient tin juste subjct de querelle, et qu'o?i les faisoit jurer 
avant entrer au camp,pcnsoient cstre aussitost vainqueurs, voire s'eti assuroieut- 
t-ils du tout, vzcsmcs que leurs coufesseurs, parrains et confidants, leurs e?i respon- 
doient tout-a-fijit, comme si Dieu leur en eust donne une patente; etne regardant 
point a dautres f antes passees, ct que Dieu en garde lapunition a ce coup la pour 
plus grande, despiteuse, ct cxemplaire." — Discours sur les Duels. 



208 MARMION. [canto v. 

In meadows rich the heifer lows, 
The falconer and huntsman knows 

Its woodlands for the game. 
Shame were it to Saint Hilda dear, 
And I, her humble vot'ress here, 

Should do a deadly sin, 
Her temple spoil'd before mine eyes, 
If this false Marmion such a prize 

By my consent should win ; 
Yet hath our boisterous monarch sworn, 
That Clare shall from our house be torn ; 
And grievous cause have I to fear, 
Such mandate doth Lord Marmion bear. 

XXIII. 

" Now, prisoner, helpless, and betray'd 
To evil power, I claim thine aid, 

By every step that thou hast trod 
To holy shrine and grotto dim, 
By every martyr's tortured limb, 
By angel, saint, and seraphim, 

And by the Church of God ! 
For mark : — When Wilton was betray'd, 
And with his squire forged letters laid, 
She was, alas ! that sinful maid, 

By whom the deed was done, — 
Oh ! shame and horror to be said ! 

She was a perjured nun ! 
No clerk in all the land, like her, 
Traced quaint and varying character. 
Perchance you may a marvel deem, 

That Marmion 's paramour 
(For such vile thing she was) should scheme 




: Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer : 
I give this packet to thy care." 

Canto v. 24. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 209 

Her lover's nuptial hour ; 
But o'er him thus she hoped to gain, 
As privy to his honor's stain, 

Illimitable power : 
For this she secretly retain'd 

Each proof that might the plot reveal, 

Instructions with his hand and seal ; 
And thus Saint Hilda deign'd, 

Through sinners' perfidy impure, 

Her house's glory to secure, 

And Clare's immortal weal. 

XXIV. 
" 'Twere long, and needless, here to tell, 
How to my hand these papers fell ; 

With me they must not stay. 
Saint Hilda keep her Abbess true ! 
Who knows what outrage he might do, 

While journeying by the way? — 
O, blessed Saint, if e'er again 
I venturous leave thy calm domain, 
To travel or by land or main, 

Deep penance may I pay ! — 
Now, saintly Palmer, mark my prayer : 
I give this packet to thy care, 
For thee to stop they will not dare ; 

And O ! with cautious speed, 
To Wolsey's hand the papers bring, 
That he may show them to the King : 

And, for thy well-earn'd meed, 
Thou holy man, at Whitby's shrine 
A weekly mass shall still be thine, 

While priests can sing and read. — 
What ail'st thou ? — Speak ! " — For as he took 



2io MARMION. [canto v. 

The charge, a strong emotion shook 

His frame ; and, ere reply, 
They heard a faint, yet shrilly tone, 
Like distant clarion feebly blown, 

That on the breeze did die ; 
And loud the Abbess shriek'd in fear, 
" Saint Withold, save us ! — What is here ! 

Look at yon City Cross ! 
See on its battled tower appear 
Phantoms, that scutcheons seem to rear, 

And blazon'd banners toss ! " — 

XXV. 
Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 1 
Rose on a turret octagon ; 

(But now is razed that monument, 

Whence royal edict rang, 
And voice of Scotland's law was sent 
In glorious trumpet-clang. 
O ! be his tomb as lead to lead, 
Upon its dull destroyer's head ! — 
A minstrel's malison 2 is said. 3 ) — 

1 [MS. — " Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, 

Rose on a turret hexagon ; 
(Dust unto dust, lead unto lead, 

On its destroyer's drowsy ) v, eac j i 

Upon its base destroyer's ) 

The Minstrel's malison is said)."] 

2 i.e. Curse. 

3 The Cross of Edinburgh was an ancient and curious structure. The lower 
part was an octagonal tour sixteen feet in diameter, and about fifteen feet high, 
At each angle there was a pillar, and between them an arch, of the Grecian 
shape. Above these was a projecting battlement with a turret at each corner, 
and medallions, of rude but curious workmanship, between them. Above this 
rose the proper Cross, a column of one stone, upwards of twenty feet high, sur- 
mounted with a unicorn. This pillar is preserved in the grounds of the prop- 
erty of Drum, near Edinburgh. The Magistrates of Edinburgh, in 1756, with 



canto v.J THE COURT. 2 1 I 

Then on its batttlements they saw 
A vision, passing Nature's law, 

Strange, wild, and dimly seen ; 
Figures that seem'd to rise and die, 
Gibber and sign, advance and fly, 
While nought confirm'd could ear or eye 

Discern of sound or mien. 
Yet darkly did it seem, as there 
Heralds and Pursuivants prepare, 
With trumpet-sound, and blazon fair, 

A summons to proclaim ; 
But indistinct the pageant proud, 
As fancy forms of midnight cloud, 
When flings the moon upon her shroud 

A wavering tinge of flame ; 
It flits, expands, and shifts, till loud, 
From midmost of the spectre crowd, 

This awful summons came : — Y 

XXVI. 
" Prince, prelate, potentate, and peer, 

Whose names I now shall call, 
Scottish, or foreigner, give ear ! 
Subjects of him who sent me here, 
At his tribunal to appear, 

I summon one and all : 

consent of the Lords of Session (pro/i pudor/), destroyed this curious monu- 
ment, under a wanton pretext that it encumbered the street ; while, on the one 
hand, they left an ugly mass called the- Luckenbooths, and on the other an 
awkward, long, and low guard-house, which were fifty times more encumbrance 
than the venerable and inoffensive Cross. 

From the tower of the Cross, so long as it remained, the heralds published 
the acts of Parliament; and its site, marked by radii diverging from a stone 
centre in the High Street, is still the place where proclamations are made. 

1 [See Appendix, Note N.] 



212 MARMION. [canto v. 

I cite you by each deadly sin, 

That e'er hath soil'd your hearts within ; 

I cite you by each brutal lust, 

That e'er defiled your earthly dust, — 

By wrath, by pride, by fear, 1 
By each o'ermastering passion's tone, 
By the dark grave, and dying groan ! 
When forty days are pass'd and gone, 2 
I cite you at your Monarch's throne, 

To answer and appear." — 
Then thundered forth a roll of names : — 
The first was thine, unhappy James ! 

Then all thy nobles came ; 
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle, 
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle, — 
Why should I tell their separate style? 

Each chief of birth and fame, 
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle, 
Fore-doom'd to Flodden's carnage pile, 

Was cited there by name ; 
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye, 
Of Luttervvard, and Scrivelbaye ; 
De Wilton, erst of Aberley, 
The self-same thundering voice did say. — 3 

But then another spoke : 
" Thy fatal summons I deny, 
And thine infernal Lord defy, 
Appealing me to Him on high, 

Who burst the sinner's yoke." 

1 [MS. — " By wrath, by fraud, by fear."] 

2 [MS. — " Ere twenty days are pass'd and gone, 

Before the mighty Monarch's throne, 
I cite you to appear."] 

3 [MS. — " In thundering tone the voice did say."] 



canto v.] THE COURT. 213 

At that dread accent, with a scream, 
Parted the pageant like a dream, 

The summoner was gone. 
Prone on her face the Abbess fell, 
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell ; 
Her nuns came, startled by the yell, 

And found her there alone. 
She mark'd not, at the scene aghast, 
What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd. 



XXVII. 

Shift we the scene. — The camp doth move, 

Dun-Edin's streets are empty now, 
Save when, for weal of those they love, 

To pray the prayer, and vow the vow, 
The tottering child, the anxious fair, 
The gray-hair'd sire, with pious care, 
To chapels and to shrines repair — 
Where is the Palmer now ? and where 
The Abbess, Marmion, and Clare ? — 
Bold Douglas ! to Tantallon fair 

They journey in thy charge : 
Lord Marmion rode on his right hand, 
The Palmer still was with the band ; 
Angus, like Lindesay, did command, 

That none should roam at large. 
But in that Palmer's alter'd mien 
A wondrous change might now be seen ; 

Freely he spoke of war, 
Of marvels wrought by single hand, 
When lifted for a native land ; 
And still look'd high, as if he plann'd 

Some desperate deed afar. 



214 MARMION. [canto v. 

His courser would he feed and stroke, 
And, tucking up his sable frocke, 
Would first his mettle bold provoke, 

Then soothe or quell his pride. 
Old Hubert said, that never one 
He saw, except Lord Marmion, 

A steed so fairly ride. 

XXVIII. 

• Some half-hour's march behind, there came. 

By Eustace govern'd fair, 
A troop escorting Hilda's Dame, 

With all her nuns, and Clare. 
No audience had Lord Marmion sought ; 

Ever he fear'd to aggravate 

Clara de Clare's suspicious hate ; 
And safer 'twas, he thought, 

To wait till, from the nuns removed, 

The influence of kinsmen loved, 

And suit by Henry's self approved, 
Her slow consent had wrought. 

His was no flickering flame, that dies 

Unless when fann'd by looks and sighs, 

And lighted oft at lady's eyes ; 

He long'd to stretch his wide command 

O'er luckless Clara's ample land : 

Besides, when Wilton with him vied, 

Although the pang of humbled pride 

The place of jealousy supplied, 
Yet conquest, by that meanness won 
He almost loath'd to think upon, 
Led him, at times, to hate the cause, 
Which made him burst through honor's laws. 



canto v.] THE COURT. 2 1$ 

If e'er he loved, 'twas her alone, 
Who died within that vault of stone. 

XXIX. 

And now, when close at hand they saw 
North Berwick's town, and lofty Law, 1 
Fitz-Eustace bade them pause a while, 
Before a venerable pile, 2 

Whose turrets view'd, afar, 
The lofty Bass, the Lambie Isle, 3 

The ocean's peace or war. 
At tolling of a bell, forth came 
The convent's venerable Dame, 
And pray'd Saint Hilda's Abbess rest 
With her, a loved and honor'd guest, 
Till Douglas should a bark prepare 
To waft her back to Whitby fair. 
Glad was the Abbess, you may guess, 
And thank'd the Scottish Prioress ; 
And tedious were to tell, I ween, 
The courteous speech that pass'd between. 

O'erjoy'd the nuns their palfreys leave ; 
But when fair Clara did intend, 
Like them, from horseback, to descend, 

Fitz-Eustace said, — " I grieve, 
Fair lady, grieve e'en from my heart, 
Such gentle company to part ; — 

Think not discourtesy, 
But lords' commands must be obey'd ; 

1 [MS. — " North Berwick's town, and conic Law."] 

2 The convent alluded to is a foundation of Cistertian nuns, near North 
Berwick, of which there are still some remains. It was founded by Duncan, 
Earl of Fife, in 1216. 

3 [MS. — " The lofty Bass, the Lamb's green isle."] 



2i6 MARMION. [canto v. 

And Marmion and the Douglas said, 

That you must wend with me. 
Lord Marmion hath a letter broad, 
Which to the Scottish Earl he show'd, 
Commanding, that, beneath his care, 
Without delay, you shall repair 
To your good kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare." 

XXX. 

The startled Abbess loud exclaim'd ; 
But she, at whom the blow was aim'd, 
Grew pale as death, and cold as lead, — 
She deem'd she heard her death-doom read. 
" Cheer thee, my child ! " the Abbess said, 
" They dare not tear thee from my hand, 
To ride alone with armed band." — 

" Nay, holy mother, nay," 
Fitz-Eustace said, " the lovely Clare 
Will be in Lady Angus' care, 

In Scotland while we stay ; 
And, when we move, an easy ride 
Will bring us to the English side, 
Female attendance to provide 

Befitting Gloster's heir ; 
Nor thinks, nor dreams, my noble lord, 
By slightest look, or act, or word, 

To harass Lady Clare. 
Her faithful guardian he will be, 
Nor sue for slightest courtesy 

That e'en to stranger falls, 
Till he shall place her, safe and free, 

Within her kinsman's halls." 
He spoke, and blush'd with earnest grace, 



canto v.] THE COURT. 2 \J 

His faith was painted on his face, 
And Clare's worst fear relieved. 
The Lady Abbess loud exclaim'd 
On Henry, and the Douglas blamed, 

Entreated, threaten'd, grieved ; 
To martyr, saint, and prophet pray'd, 
Against Lord Marmion inveigh'd, 
And call'd the Prioress to aid, 
To curse with candle, bell, and book. 
-Her head the grave Cistertian shook : 
" The Douglas, and the King," she said, 
" In their commands will be obey'd ; 
Grieve not, nor dream that harm can fall 
The maiden in Tantallon hall." 

XXXI. 

The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, 
Assumed her wonted state again, — 

For much of state she had, — 
Composed her veil, and raised her head, 
And — " Bid," in solemn voice she said, 

" Thy master, bold and bad, 
The records of his house turn o'er, 

And, when he shall there written see, 

That one of his own ancestry 

Drove the monks forth of Coventry, 1 

1 This relates to the catastrophe of a real Robert de Marmion, in the reign 
of King Stephen, whom William of Newbury describes with some attributes of 
my fictitious hero : — " Homo bellicosus, ferocia, et astasia, fere nulla suo tem- 
pore imparl This Baron, having expelled the Monks from the church of 
Coventry, was not long of experiencing the divine judgment, as the same 
monks, no doubt, termed his disaster. Having waged a feudal war with the 
Earl of Chester, Marmion's horse fell, as he charged in the van of his troop 
against a body of the Earl's followers: the rider's thigh being broken by the 
fall, his head was cut off by a common foot-soldier ere he could receive any 
succor. The whole story is told by William of Newbury. 



2 1 8 M ARM/ ON. [canto v. 

Bid him his fate explore ! 

Prancing in pride of earthly trust, 

His charger hurl'd him to the dust, 

And, by a base plebeian thrust, 
He died his band before. 

God judge 'twixt Marmion and me ; 

He is a Chief of high degree, 
And I a poor recluse ; 

Yet oft in holy writ, we see 

Even such weak minister as me 
May the oppressor bruise : 

For thus, inspired, did Judith slay 
The mighty in his sin, 

And Jael thus, and Deborah " — 
Here hasty Blount broke in : 
"Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band ; 
Saint Anton fire thee ! wilt thou stand 
All day, with bonnet in thy hand, 

To hear the Lady preach ? 
By this good light ! if thus we stay, 
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay, 

Will sharper sermon teach. 
Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse ; 
The Dame must patience take perforce." — 



XXXII. 

"Submit we then to force," said Clare, 
" But let this barbarous lord despair 

His purposed aim to win ; 
Let him take living, land, and life, 
But to be Marmion's wedded wife 

In me were deadly sin : 
And if it be the King's decree, 



canto v.] THE COURT 



That I must find no sanctuary, 

In that inviolable dome, 1 

Where even a homicide might come, 

And safely rest his head, 
Though at its open portals stood, 
Thirsting to pour forth blood for blood, 

The kinsmen of the dead ; 
Yet one asylum is my own 

Against the dreaded hour ; 
A low, a silent, and a lone, 

Where kings have little power. 
One victim is before me there. — 
Mother, your blessing, and in prayer 
Remember your unhappy Clare ! " 
Loud weeps the Abbess, and bestows 

Kind blessings many a one : 
Weeping and wailing loud arose, 
Round patient Clare, the clamorous woes 

Of every simple nun. 
His eyes the gentle Eustace dried, 
And scarce rude Blount the sight could bide. 

Then took the squire her rein, 
And gently led away her steed, 
And, by each courteous word and deed, 

To cheer her strove in vain. 



XXXIII. 

But scant three miles the band had rode, 

When o'er a height they pass'd, 
And, sudden, close before them show'd 

1 [This line, necessary to the rhyme, is now for the first time restored from 
the MS. It must have been omitted by an oversight in the original printing. — 



Ed.] 



220 M ARM I ON. [CANTO V. 

His towers, Tantallon vast ; 
Broad, massive, high, and stretching far, 
And held impregnable in war. 
On a projecting rock they rose, 
And round three sides the ocean flows, 
The fourth did battled walls enclose, 

And double mound and fosse. 1 
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong, 
Through studded gates, an entrance long, 

To the main court they cross. 
It was a wide and stately square : 
Around were lodgings, fit and fair, 

And towers of various form, 
Which on the court projected far, 
And broke its lines quadrangular. 
Here was square keep, there turret high, 
Or pinnacle that sought the sky, 
Whence oft the Warder could descry 

The gathering ocean-storm. 



1 [" During the regency (subsequent to the death of James V.) the Dowager 
Queen Regent, Mary of Guise, became desirous of putting a French garrison 
into Tantallon, as she had into Dunbar and Inchkeith, in order the better to 
bridle the lords and barons who inclined to the reformed faith, and to secure by 
citadels the sea-coast of the Frith of Forth. For this purpose the Regent, to 
use the phrase of the time, ' dealed with ' the (then) Earl of Angus for his 
consent to the proposed measure. He occupied himself while she was speak- 
ing in feeding a falcon which sat upon his wrist, and only replied by addressing 
the bird, but leaving the Queen to make the application, 'The devil is in this 
greedy gled — she will never be fou.' But when the Queen, without appearing 
to notice this hint, continued to press her obnoxious request, Angus replied in 
the true spirit of a feudal noble, ' Yes, Madam, the castle is yours ; God forbid 
else. But by the might of God, Madam ! ' such was his usual oath, ' I must be 
your Captain and Keeper for you, and I will keep it as well as any you can 
place there.' " — SIR WALTER SCOTT'S Provincial Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 167.] 



CANTO v.] THE COURT. 221 

XXXIV. 

Here did they rest. — The princely care 
Of Douglas, why should I declare, 
Or say they met reception fair ? 

Or why the tidings say, 
Which, varying, to Tantallon came, 
By hurrying posts, or fleeter fame, 

With every varying day? 
And, first, they heard King James had won 

Etall, and Wark, and Ford ; and then, 

That Norham Castle strong was ta'en. 
At that sore marvell'd Marmion ; — 
And Douglas hoped his Monarch's hand 
Would soon subdue Northumberland : 

But whisper'd news there came, 
That, while his host inactive lay, 
And melted by degrees away, 
King James was dallying off the day 

With Heron's wily dame. — 
Such acts to chronicles I yield ; 

Go seek them there, and see : 
Mine is a tale of Flodden Field, 

And not a history. — 
At length they heard the Scottish host 
On that high ridge had made their post, 

Which frowns o'er Millfield Plain ; 
And that brave Surrey many a band 
Had gather' d in the Southern land, 
And march'd into Northumberland, 

And camp at Wooler ta'en. 
Marmion, like charger in the stall, 
That hears, without, the trumpet-call, 



222 MARMION. [canto v.] 

Began to chafe, and swear : — 
" A sorry thing to hide my head 
In castle, like a fearful maid, 

When such a field is near. 
Needs must I see this battle-day : 
Death to my fame if such a fray 
Were fought, and Marmion away ! 
The Douglas, too, I wot not why, 
Hath 'bated of his courtesy : 
No longer in his halls I'll stay." 
Then bade his band they should array 
For inarch against the dawning day. 



MARMION. 

INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 

TO RICHARD HEBER, ESQ. 



Mertoiin-Honse} Christmas. 

Heap on more wood ! — the wind is chill ; 

But let it whistle as it will, 

We'll keep our Christmas merry still. 

Each age has deem'd the new-born year 

The fittest time for festal cheer : 

Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane 

At Iol more deep the mead did drain ; 2 

High on the beach his galleys drew, 

And feasted all his pirate crew ; 

Then in his low and pine-built hall, 

1 [Mertoun-house, the seat of Hugh Scott, Esq., of Harden, is beautifully 
situated on the Tweed, about two miles below Dryburgh Abbey.] 

2 The Iol of the heathen Danes (a word still applied to Christmas in Scot- 
land) was solemnized with great festivity. The humor of the Danes at table 
displayed itself in pelting each other with bones ; and Torfaeus tells a long and 
curious story in the History of Hrolfe Kraka, of one Hottus, an inmate of the 
Court of Denmark, who was so generally assailed with these missiles that he 
constructed, out of the bones with which he was overwhelmed, a very respecta- 
ble intrench ment, against those who continued the raillery. The dances of the 
northern warriors round the great fires of pine-trees, are commemorated by 
Olaus Magnus, who says they danced with such fury, holding each other by 
the hands, that, if the grasp of any failed, he was pitched into the fire with the 
velocity of a sling. The sufferer, on such occasions, was instantly plucked out, 
and obliged to quaff off a certain measure of ale, as a penalty for "spoiling the 
king's fire." 



224 



MARMION. 



Where shields and axes deck'd the wall, 

They gorged upon the half-dress'd steer ; 

Caroused in seas of sable beer ; 

While round, in brutal jest, were thrown 

The half-gnaw'd rib, and marrow-bone, 

Or listen'd all, in grim delight, 

While scalds yell'd out the joys of fight. 

Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie, 

While wildly-loose their red locks fly, 

And dancing round the blazing pile, 

They make such barbarous mirth the while, 

As best might to the mind recall 

The boisterous joys of Odin's hall. 

And well our Christian sires of old 
Loved when the year its course had roll'd, 
And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
With all his hospitable train. 
Domestic and religious rite 
Gave honor to the holy night ; 
On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; 
On Christmas eve the mass 1 was sung : 
That only night in all the year, 

1 In Roman Catholic countries, mass is never said at night, except on 
Christmas eve. Each of the frolics with which that holiday used to be cele- 
brated, might admit of a long and curious note; but I shall content myself 
with the following description of Christmas, and his attributes, as personified 
in one of Ben Jonson's Masques for the Court. 

" Enter CHRISTMAS, with two or three of the Guard. He is attired in round 
hose, long stockings, a close doublet, a high crowned hat, with a brooch, a long 
thin beard, a truncheon, little ruffs, white shoes, his scarfs and garters tied cross, 
and his drum beaten before him. — The names of his children, with their at- 
tires: Miss-Rule, in a velvet cap, with a sprig, a short cloak, great yellow ruff, 
like a reveller; his torch-bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a basket; — Car- 
oil, a long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at his girdle ; his torch-bearer 
carrying a song-book open ; — Mined pie, like a fine cook's wife, drest neat, 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 



225 



Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear. 

The damsel donn'd her kirtle sheen ; 

The hall was dress'd with holly green ; 

Forth to the wood did merry-men go, 

To gather in the misletoe. 

Then open'd wide the Baron's hall 

To vassal, tenant, serf, and all ; 

Power laid his rod of rule aside, 

And Ceremony doffd his pride. 

The heir, with roses in his shoes, 

That night might village partner choose ; 

The Lord, underogating, share 

The vulgar game of " post and pair." 

All hail'd with uncontroll'd delight, 

And general voice, the happy night, 

That to the cottage, as the crown, 

Brought tidings of salvation down. 

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied, 
Went roaring up the chimney wide ; 
The huge hall-table's oaken face, 
Scrubb'd till it shone, the day to grace, 
Bore then upon its massive board 

her man carrying a pie, dish, and spoons; — Gamboll, like a tumbler, with a 
hoop and bells; his torch-bearer arm 'd with cole-staff, and blinding-cloth; — 
Post and Pair, with a pair-royal of aces in his hat, his garment all done over 
with pairs and purs; his squire carrying a box, cards, and counters; — New- 
year's-Gift, in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, and a sprig of 
rosemary gilt on his head ; his hat full of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread ; 
his torch-bearer carrying a march-pain, with a bottle of wine on either arm ; — 
Mumming, in a masquing pied suit, with a visor; his torch-bearer carrying the 
box, and ringing it ; — Wassal, like a neat sempster and songster ; her page bear- 
ing a brown bowl, drest with ribbands, and rosemary, before her; — Offering, in 
a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand ; a wyth borne before him, and a 
bason, by his torch-bearer; — Baby Cocke, drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, 
biggin, bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great cake, 
with a bean and a pease." 



226 M ARM TON. 



No mark to part the squire and lord. 
Then was brought in the lusty brawn, 
By old blue-coated serving-man ; 
Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high, 
Crested with bays and rosemary. 
Well can the green-garb'd ranger tell, 
How, when, and where, the monster fell ; 
What dogs before his death he tore, 
And all the baiting of the boar. 1 
The wassel round, in good brown bowls, 
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithely trowls. 
There the huge sirloin reek'd ; hard by 
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie : 
Nor faiPd old Scotland to produce, 
At such high tide, her savory goose. 
Then came the merry maskers in, 
And carols roar'd with blithesome din ; 
If unmelodious was the song, 
It was a hearty note, and strong. 
Who lists may in their mumming see 
Traces of ancient mystery ; 2 

1 [MS. — "And all the hunting of the boar. 

Then round the merry wassel bowl, 
Garnish'd with ribbons, blithe did trowl, 
And the large sirloin steam'd on high, 
Plum-porridge, hare, and savory pie."] 

2 It seems certain, that the Mummers of England, who (in Northumberland 
at least) used to go about in disguise to the neighboring houses, bearing the 
then useless ploughshare ; and the Guisards of Scotland, not yet in total disuse, 
present, in some indistinct degree, a shadow of the old mysteries, which were 
the origin of the English drama. In Scotland {me ipso teste) , we were wont, 
during my boyhood, to take the characters of the apostles, at least of Peter, 
Paul, and Judas Iscariot; the first had the keys, the second carried a sword, 
and the last the bag, in which the dole of our neighbors' plum-cake was depos- 
ited. One played a champion, and recited some traditional rhymes ; another 

was 

. . . " Alexander, King of Macedon, 

Who conquer'd all the world but Scotland alone. 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 



'2? 



White shirts supplied the masquerade, 
And smutted cheeks the visors made ; 
But, ! what maskers, richly dight, 
Can boast of bosoms half so light ! 
England was merry England, when 
Old Christmas brought his sports again. 
'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale ; 
'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale ; 
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer 
The poor man's heart through half the year. 



Still linger, in our northern clime, 
Some remnants of the good old time ; 
And still, within our valleys here, 
We hold the kindred title dear, 
Even when, perchance, its far-fetch'd claim 
To Southron ear sounds empty name ; 
For course of blood, our proverbs deem, 



When he came to Scotland his courage grew cold, 
To see a little nation courageous and bold." 

These, and many such verses, were repeated, but by rote, and unconnectedTy. 
There was also, occasionally, I believe, a Saint George. In all, there was a 
confused resemblance of the ancient mysteries, in which the characters of 
Scripture, the Nine Worthies, and other popular personages, were usually ex- 
hibited. It were much to be wished that the Chester mysteries were published 
from the MS. in the Museum, with the annotations which a diligent investigator 
of popular antiquities might still supply. The late acute and valuable anti- 
quary, Mr. Ritson, showed me several memoranda towards such a task, which 
are probably now dispersed or lost. See, however, his Remarks on Shakspeare y 

1783. P- 38. 

Since the first edition of Marmion appeared, this subject has received much 
elucidation from the learned and extensive labors of Mr. Douce; and the 
Chester mysteries [edited by J. H. Markland, Esq.] have been printed in a 
style of great elegance and accuracy (in 1818), by Bensley & Sons, London, for 
the Roxburghe Club. 1830. 



228 MARMIOAT. 



Is warmer than the mountain stream. 1 
And thus, my Christmas still I hold 
Where my great-grandsire came of old, 
With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 2 
And reverend apostolic air — 
The feast and holy-tide to share, 
And mix sobriety with wine, 
And honest mirth with thoughts divine : 
Small thought was his, in after time 
E'er to be hitch'd into a rhyme. 
The simple sire could only boast, 
That he was loyal to his cost ; 
The banish'd race of kings revered, 
And lost his land, — but kept his beard. 

In these dear halls, where welcome kind 3 
Is with fair liberty combined ; 
Where cordial friendship gives the hand, 
And flies constraint the magic wand 
Of the fair dame that rules the land. 4 
Little we heed the tempest drear, 
While music, mirth, and social cheer, 
Speed on their wings the passing year. 
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en now, 
When not a leaf is on the bough. 
Tweed loves them well, and turns again, 
As loth to leave the sweet domain, 
And holds his mirror to her face, 

1 " Blood is wanner than water," — a proverb meant to vindicate our family 
predilections. 

2 [See Appendix, Note O.] 

3 [MS. — " In these fair halls, with merry cheer, 

Is bid farewell the dying year."] 

4 [See Introduction to the Minstrelsy, vol. iv.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 229 



And clips her with a close embrace : — 
Gladly as he, we seek the dome, 
And as reluctant turn us home. 



How just that, at this time of glee, 
My thoughts should, Heber, turn to thee ! 
For many a merry hour we've known, 
And heard the chimes of midnight's tone. 1 
Cease, then, my friend ! a moment cease, 
And leave these classic tomes in peace ! 
Of Roman and of Grecian lore, 
Sure mortal brain can hold no more. 
These ancients, as Noll Bluff might say, 
" Were pretty fellows in their day " ; 2 
But time and tide o'er all prevail — 
On Christmas eve a Christmas tale — 
Of wonder and of war — " Profane ! 
What ! leave the lofty Latian strain, 
Her stately prose, her verse's charms, 
To hear the clash of rusty arms : 
In fairy Land or Limbo lost, 
To jostle conjuror and ghost, 
Goblin and witch ! " — Nay, Heber dear, 
Before you touch my charter, hear ; 
Though Leyden aids, alas ! no more, 
My cause with many-languaged lore, 3 

1 [The MS. adds : — 

" As boasts old Shallow to Sir John."] 

2 "Hannibal was a pretty fellow, sir, — a very pretty fellow in his day." — 
Old Bachelor. 

3 [MS. — "With all his many-languaged lore." John Leyden, M.D., who 
had been of great service to Sir Walter Scott in the preparation of the Border 
Minstrelsy, sailed for India in April, 1803, and died at Java in August, 1811, 
before completing his 36th year. 

" Scenes sung by him who sings no more! 
His brief and bright career is o'er, 



230 



MARMION. 



This may I say : — In realms of death 

Ulysses meets Alcides' wraith ; 

^Eneas, upon Thracia's shore, 

The ghost of murder'd Polydore ; 

For omens, we in Livy cross, 

At every turn, locutus Bos. 

As grave and duly speaks that ox, 

As if he told the price of stocks ; 

Or held, in Rome republican, 

The place of Common-councilman. 

All nations have their omens drear, 
Their legends wild of woe and fear. 
To Cambria look — the peasant see, 
Bethink him of Glendowerdy, 
And shun " the Spirit's Blasted Tree." — l 
The Highlander, whose red claymore 
The battle turn'd on Maida's shore, 
Will, on a Friday morn, look pale, 
If ask'd to tell a fairy tale : 2 

And mute his tuneful strains; 
Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, 
That loved the light of song to pour. 
A distant and a deadly shore 

Has Leyden's cold remains ! " 

Lord of the Isles, Canto IV. 

See a notice of his life in the Author's Miscellaneous Prose Works.] 

1 [See Appendix, Note P.] 

2 The Daoine shi' , or Men of Peace, of the Scottish Highlanders, rather re-. 
semble the Scandinavian Duergar, than the English Fairies. Notwithstanding 
their name, they are, if not absolutely malevolent, at least peevish, discontented, 
and apt to do mischief on slight provocation. The belief of their existence ia 
deeply impressed on the Highlanders, who think they are particularly offended 
at mortals who talk of them, who wear their favorite color, green, or in any 
respect interfere with their affairs. This is especially to be avoided on Friday, 
■when, whether as dedicated to Venus, with whom, in Germany, this subterrane- 
ous people are held nearly connected, or for a more solemn reason, they are 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 231 

He fears the vengeful Elfin King, 
Who leaves that day his grassy ring : 
Invisible to human ken, 
He walks among the sons of men. 

Did'st e'er, dear Heber, pass along 1 
Beneath the towers of Franchemont. 
Which, like an eagle's nest in air, 
Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fair ? " 2 
Deep in their vaults, the peasants say, 
A mighty treasure buried lay, 
Amass'd through rapine and through wrong 
By the last Lord of Franchemont. 3 

more active, and possessed of greater power. Some curious particulars con- 
cerning the popular superstitions of the Highlanders may be found in Dr. Gra- 
ham's Picturesque Sketches of Perthshire. 

1 [This paragraph appears interpolated on the blank page of the MS.] 

2 [MS. — " Which, high in air, like eagle's nest, 

Hang from the dizzy mountain's breast."] 

3 The journal of the friend, to whom the Fourth Canto of the Poem is in- 
scribed, furnished me with the following account of a striking superstition. 

"Passed the pretty little village of Franchemont (near Spaw), with the ro- 
mantic ruins of the old castle of the Counts of that name. The road leads 
through many delightful vales, on a rising ground; at the extremity of one of 
them stands the ancient castle, now the subject of many superstitious legends. 
It is firmly believed by the neighboring peasantry, that the last Baron of 
Franchemont deposited, in one of the vaults of the castle, a ponderous chest, 
containing an immense treasure in gold and silver, which, by some magic spell, 
was intrusted to the care of the Devil, who is constantly found sitting on the 
chest in the shape of a huntsman. Any one adventurous enough to touch the 
chest is instantly seized with the palsy. Upon one occasion, a priest of noted 
piety was brought to the vault ; he used all the arts of exorcism to persuade his 
infernal majesty to vacate his seat, but in vain ; the huntsman remained immov- 
able. At last, moved by the earnestness of the priest, he told him, that he 
would agree to resign the chest, if the exorciser would sign his name with 
blood. But the priest understood his meaning, and refused, as by that act he 
would have delivered over his soul to the Devil. Yet if anybody can discover 
the mystic words used by the person who deposited the treasure, and pronounce 
them, the fiend must instantly decamp. I had many stories of a similar nature 
from a peasant, who had himself seen the Devil, in the shape of a great cat." 



232 



MARMION. 



The iron chest is bolted hard, 

A huntsman sits, its constant guard ; 

Around his neck his horn is hung, 

His hanger in his belt is slung ; 

Before his feet his blood-hounds lie: 

And, 'twere not for his gloomy eye, 

Whose withering glance no heart can brook, 

As true a huntsman doth he look, 

As bugle e'er in brake did sound, 

Or ever halloo'd to a hound. 

To chase the fiend, and win the prize, 

In that same dungeon ever tries 

An aged Necromantic Priest ; 

It is an hundred years at least, 

Since 'twixt them first the strife begun, 

And neither yet has lost nor won. 

And oft the conjuror's words will make 

The stubborn Demon groan and quake ; 

And oft the bands of iron break, 

Or bursts one lock, that still amain, 

Fast as 'tis open'd, shuts again. 

That magic strife within the tomb 

May last until the day of doom, 

Unless the Adept shall learn to tell 

The very word that clench'd the spell, 

When Franch'mont lock'd the treasure cell. 

An hundred years are pass'd and gone, 

And scarce three letters has he won. 



Such general superstition may 
Excuse for old Pits'cottie say ; 
Whose gossip history has given 
My song the messenger from Heaven, 1 
1 [See Appendix, Note L.] 



INTRODUCTION TO CANTO SIXTH. 



233 



That warn'd, in Lithgow, Scotland's King, 
Nor less the infernal summoning ; l 
May pass the Monk of Durham's tale, 
Whose Demon fought in Gothic mail ; 
May pardon plead for Fordun grave, 
Who told of Gifford's Goblin- Cave. 
But why such instances to you, 
Who, in an instant, can renew 
Your treasured hoards of various lore, 
And furnish twenty thousand more ? 
Hoards, not like theirs whose volumes rest 
Like treasures in the Franch'mont chest, 
While gripple owners still refuse 
To others what they cannot use ; 
Give them the priest's whole century, 
They shall not spell you letters three ; 
Their pleasure in the books the same 
The magpie takes in pilfer'd gem. 
Thy volumes, open as thy heart, 
Delight, amusement, science, art, 
To every ear and eye impart ; 
Yet who, of all who thus employ them, 
Can like the owner's self enjoy them? — 
But, hark ! I hear the distant drum ! 
The day of Flodden Field is come, — 
Adieu, dear Heber ! life and health, 
And store of literary wealth. 

1 [The four lines which follow are not in the MS.] 



©ant* gixtU. 

THE BATTLE. 

I. 

While great events were on the gale, 

And each hour brought a varying tale, 

And the demeanor, changed and cold, 

Of Douglas, fretted Marmion bold, 

And, like the impatient steed of war, 

He snuffed the battle from afar ; 

And hopes were none, that back again 

Herald should come from Terouenne, 

Where England's King in leaguer lay, 

Before decisive battle-day ; 

Whilst these things were, the mournful Clare 

Did in the Dame's devotions share : 

For the good Countess ceaseless pray'd 

To Heaven and Saints, her sons to aid, 

And, with short interval, did pass 

From prayer to book, from book to mass, 

And all in high Baronial pride, — 

A life both dull and dignified ; — 

Yet as Lord Marmion nothing press 'd 

Upon her intervals of rest, 

Dejected Clara well could bear 

The formal state, the lengthen'd prayer, 

Though dearest to her wounded heart 

The hours that she might spend apart. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 235 

II. 

I said, Tantallon's dizzy steep 

Hung o'er the margin of the deep. 

Many a rude tower and rampart there 

Repell'd the insult of the air, 

Which, when the tempest vex'd the sky, 

Half breeze, half spray, came whistling by. 

Above the rest, a turret square 

Did o'er its Gothic entrance bear, 

Of sculpture rude, a stony shield ; 

The Bloody Heart was in the Field, 

And in the chief three mullets stood, 

The cognizance of Douglas blood. 

The turret held a narrow stair, 1 

Which, mounted, gave you access where 

A parapet's embattled row 

Did seaward round the castle go. 

Sometimes in dizzy steps descending, 

Sometimes in narrow circuit bending, 

Sometimes in platform broad extending, 

Its varying circle did combine 

Bulwark, and bartisan, and line, 

And bastion, tower, and vantage-coign : 

Above the booming ocean leant 

The far-projecting battlement ; 

The billows burst, in ceaseless flow, 

Upon the precipice below. 

Where'er Tantallon faced the land, 

Gate-works, and walls, were strongly mann'd ; 

No need upon the sea-girt side ; 

The steepy rock, and frantic tide, 

1 [MS. — " The tower contain'd a narrow stair, 
And gave an open access where."] 



236 MARMION. [canto vi. 

Approach of human step denied ; 

And thus these lines, and ramparts rude, 

Were left in deepest solitude. 



III. 

And, for they were so lonely, Clare 
Would to these battlements repair, 
And muse upon her sorrows there, 

And list the sea-bird's cry ; 
Or slow, like noontide ghost, would glide 
Alone the dark-gray bulwarks' side, 
And ever on the heaving tide 

Look down with weary eye. 
Oft did the cliff, and swelling main, 
Recall the thoughts of Whitby's fane, — 
A home she ne'er might see again ; 

For she had laid adown, 
So Douglas bade, the hood and veil, 
And frontlet of the cloister pale, 

And Benedictine gown : 
It were unseemly sight, he said, 
A novice out of convent shade. — 
Now her bright locks, with sunny glow, 
Again adorn 'd her brow of snow ; 
Her mantle rich, whose borders, round, 
A deep and fretted broidery bound, 
In golden foldings sought the ground ; 
Of holy ornament, alone 
Remain'd a cross with ruby stone ; 

And often did she look 
On that which in her hand she bore, 
With velvet bound, and broider'd o'er, 

Her breviary book. 



canto VI.] THE BATTLE. 237 

In such a place, so lone, so grim, 
At dawning pale, or twilight dim, 

It fearful would have been 
To meet a form so richly dress'd, 1 
With book in hand, and cross on breast, 

And such a woeful mien. 
Fitz-Eustace, loitering with his bow, 
To practise on the gull and crow, 
Saw her, at distance, gliding slow, 

And did by Mary swear, — 
Some love-lorn Fay she might have been, 
Or, in Romance, some spell-bound Queen ; 
For ne'er, in work-day world, was seen 

A form so witching fair. 9 

IV. 
Once walking thus, at evening tide, 
It chanced a gliding sail she spied, 
And, sighing, thought — " The Abbess, there, 
Perchance, does to her home repair ; 
Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free, 
Walks hand in hand with Charity ; 
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow 
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow, 
That the enraptured sisters see 
High vision, and deep mystery ; 
The very form of Hilda fair, 
Hovering upon the sunny air, 
And smiling on her votaries' prayer. 3 

1 [MS. — " To meet a form so fair, and dress'd 

In antique robes, with cross on breast."] 

2 [MS. — "A form so sad and fair."] 

3 " I shall only produce one instance more of the great veneration paid to 
Lady Hilda, which still prevails even in these our days : and that is the constant 
opinion that she rendered, and still renders, herself visible, on some occasions, 



238 MARMION. [canto vi. 

! wherefore, to my duller eye, 

Did still the Saint her form deny ! 

Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn, 

My heart could neither melt nor burn ? 

Or lie my warm affections low, 

With him, that taught them first to glow ? 

Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew, 

To pay thy kindness grateful due, 

And well could brook the mild command, 

That ruled thy simple maiden band. 

How different now ! condemned to bide 

My doom from this dark tyrant's pride. — 

But Marmion has to learn, ere long, 

That constant mind, and hate of wrong, 

Descended to a feeble girl, 

From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl : 

Of such a stem, a sapling weak, 1 

He ne'er shall bend, although he break. 



in the Abbey of Streanshalh, or Whitby, where she so long resided. At a par- 
ticular time of the year (viz., in the summer months), at ten or eleven in the 
forenoon, the sunbeams fall in the inside of the northern part of the choir; and 
'tis then that the spectators who stand on the west side of Whitby churchyard, 
so as just to see the most northerly part of the abbey pass the north end of 
Whitby church, imagine they perceive, in one of the highest windows there, the 
resemblance of a woman arrayed in a shroud. Though we are certain this is 
only a reflection caused by the splendor of the sunbeams, yet fame reports it, 
and it is constantly believed among the vulgar to be an appearance of Lady 
Hilda in her shroud, or rather in a glorified state; before which, I make no 
doubt, the Papists, even in these our days, offer up their prayers with as much 
zeal and devotion as before any other image of their most glorified saint." — 
Charlton's History of Whitby, p. 33. 

1 [MS. — " Of such a stem, or branch, j thou S h j weak, 
He ne'er shall bend me, though he break."] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 239 



" But see ! — what makes this armor here ? " — 

For in her path there lay 
Targe, corslet, helm \ — she view'd them near. - 
" The breast-plate pierced ! — Ay, much I fear, 
Weak fence wert thou 'gainst foeman's spear, 
That hath made fatal entrance here, 
As these dark blood-gouts say. — 
Thus Wilton ! — Oh ! not corslet's ward, 
Not truth, as diamond pure and hard, 
Could be thy manly bosom's guard, 

On yon disastrous day ! " — 
She raised her eyes in mournful mood, — 
Wilton himself before her stood ! 
It might have seem'd his passing ghost, 
For every youthful grace was lost ; 
And joy unwonted, and surprise, 
Gave their strange wildness to his eyes. — 
Expect not, noble dames and lords, 
That I can tell such scene in words : 
What skilful limner e'er would choose 
To paint the rainbow's varying hues, 
Unless to mortal it were given 
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven? 
Far less can my weak line declare 

Each changing passion's shade ; 
Brightening to rapture from despair, 
Sorrow, surprise, and pity there, 
And joy, with her angelic air, 
And hope, that paints the future fair, 

Their varying hues display'd : 
Each o'er its rival's ground extending, 



240 M ARM ION. [canto vi. 

Alternate conquering, shifting, blending, 
Till all, fatigued, the conflict yield, 
And mighty Love retains the field. 
Shortly I tell what then he said, 
By many a tender word delay'd, 1 
And modest blush, and bursting sigh, 
And question kind, and fond reply : — 

VI. 

§t Hilton's fislorg. 2 

" Forget we that disastrous day, 
When senseless in the lists I lay. 

Thence dragg'd, — but how I cannot know, 
For sense and recollection fled, — 

I found me on a pallet low, 

Within my ancient beadsman's shed. 3 

Austin, — remember'st thou, my Clare, 
How thou didst blush, when the old man, 
When first our infant love began, 

Said we would make a matchless pair? — 
Menials, and friends, and kinsmen fled 
From the degraded traitor's bed, — 4 
He only held my burning head, 
And tended me for many a day, 
While wounds and fever held their sway. 

1 [MS. — " By many a short caress delay'd."] 

2 [" When the surprise at meeting a lover rescued from the dead is consid- 
ered, the above picture will not be thought overcharged with coloring ; and yet 
the painter is so fatigued with his exertion that he has finally thrown away the 
brush, and is contented with merely chalking ozit the intervening adventures 
of De Wilton, without bestowing on them any colors at all." — Critical 
Review?^ 

3 [MS. — " Where an old beadsman held my head."] 

4 [MS. — " The banish'd traitor's / humble I bed."] 
L ( lowly I J 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 241 

But far more needful was his care, 
When sense return'd to wake despair ; 

For I did tear the closing wound, 

And dash me frantic on the ground, 
If e'er I heard the name of Clare. 
At length, to calmer reason brought, 
Much by his kind attendance wrought, 

With him I left my native strand, 
And, in a Palmer's weeds array'd 
My hated name and form to shade, 

I journey 'd many a land ; 
No more a lord of rank and birth, 
But mingled with the dregs of earth. 

Oft Austin for my reason fear'd, 
When I would sit, and deeply brood 
On dark revenge, and deeds of blood, 

Or wild mad schemes uprear'd. 
My friend at length fell sick, and said, 

God would remove him soon : 
And, while upon his dying bed, 

He begg'd of me a boon — 
If e'er my deadliest enemy 
Beneath my brand should conquer' d lie, 
Even then my mercy should awake, 
And spare his life for Austin's sake. 

VII. 

" Still restless as a second Cain, 

To Scotland next my route was ta'en, 

Full well the paths I knew. 
Fame of my fate made various sound, 
That death in pilgrimage I found, 
That I had perish'd of my wound, — 

None cared which tale was true : 



242 M ARM ION. [canto vi. 

And living eye could never guess 

De Wilton in his Palmer's dress ; 

For now that sable slough is shed, 

And trimm'd my shaggy beard and head, 

I scarcely know me in the glass. 

A chance most wondrous did provide, 

That I should be that Baron's guide — 

I will not name his name ! — 
Vengeance to God alone belongs ; 
But, when I think on all my wrongs, 

My blood is liquid flame ! 
And ne'er the time shall I forget, 
When in a Scottish hostel set, 

Dark looks we did exchange : 
What were his thoughts I cannot tell ; 
But in my bosom muster'd Hell 

Its plans of dark revenge. 

VIII. 

" A word of vulgar augury, 

That broke from me, I scarce knew why, 

Brought on a village tale ; 
Which wrought upon his moody sprite, 
And sent him arm£d forth by night. 

I borrow'd steed and mail, 
And weapons, from his sleeping band j 

And, passing from a postern door, 
We met, and 'counter'd, hand to hand, — 

He fell on Gifford-moor. 
For the death-stroke my brand I drew, 
(O then my helmed head he knew, 

The Palmer's cowl was gone,) 
Then had three inches of my blade 
The heavy debt of vengeance paid, — 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 243 

My hand the thought of Austin staid ; ' 

I left him there alone. — 
O good old man ! even from the grave, 
Thy spirit could thy master save : 
If I had slain my foeman, ne'er 
Had Whitby's Abbess, in her fear, 
Given to my hand this packet dear, 
Of power to clear my injured fame, 
And vindicate De Wilton's name. — 
Perchance you heard the Abbess tell 
Of the strange pageantry of Hell, 

That broke our secret speech — 
It rose from the infernal shade, 
Or featly was some juggle play'd, 

A tale of peace to teach. 
Appeal to Heaven I judged was best, 
When my name came among the rest. 

IX. 

" Now here, within Tantallon Hold, 
To Douglas late my tale I told, 
To whom my house was known of old. 
Won by my proofs, his falchion bright 
This eve anew shall dub me knight. 
• These were the arms that once did turn 
The tide of, fight on Otterburne, 
And Harry Hotspur forced to yield, 
When the Dead Douglas won the field. 2 

1 [MS. — " But thought of Austin staid my hand, 

And in the sheath I plunged the brand ; 
I left him there alone. — 

O good old man ! even from the grave, 

Thy spirit could De Wilton save."] 
' l [See the ballad of Otterbourne, in the Border Minstrelsy, vol. i.] 



244 MARMION. [canto vi. 

These Angus gave — his armorer's care, 

Ere morn, shall every breach repair ; 

For nought, he said, was in his halls, 

But ancient armor on the walls, 

And aged chargers in the stalls, 

And women, priests, and gray-hair'd men ; 

The rest were all in Twisel glen. 1 

And now I watch my armor here, 

By law of arms, till midnight's near ; $ 

Then, once again a belted knight, 

Seek Surrey's camp with dawn of light. 

X. 

" There soon again we meet, my Clare ! 
This Baron means to guide thee there : 
Douglas reveres his King's command, 
Else would he take thee from his band. 
And there thy kinsman, Surrey, too, 
Will give De Wilton justice due. 
Now meeter far for martial broil, 
Firmer my limbs, and strung by toil. 

Once more " " O Wilton ! must we then 

Risk new-found happiness again, 

Trust fate of arms once more ? 
And is there not an humble glen, 

Where we, content and poor, 
Might build a cottage in the shade, 
A shepherd thou, and I to aid 

Thy task on dale and moor ? 

That reddening brow ! — too well I know, 
Not even thy Clare can peace bestow, 

1 Where James encamped before taking post on Flodden. [The MS. has — 
" The rest were all on Flodden plain."] 



canto vi.J iHE BATTLE. 245 

While falsehood stains thy name : 
Go then to fight ! Clare bids thee go ! 
Clare can a warrior's feelings know, 

And weep a warrior's shame ; 
Can Red Earl Gilbert's spirit feel, 
Buckle the spurs upon thy heel, 
And belt thee with thy brand of steel, 

And send thee forth to fame ! " 

XI. 

That night, upon the rocks and bay, 

The midnight moon-beam slumbering lay, 
And pour'd its silver light, and pure, 
Through loop-hole, and through embrazure, 

Upon Tantallon tower and hall ; 
But chief were arched windows wide 
Illuminate the chapel's pride, 

The sober glances fall. 
Much was there need ; though seam'd with scars, 
Two veterans of the Douglas' wars, 

Though two gray priests were there, 
And each a blazing torch held high, 
You could not by their blaze descry l 

The chapel's carving fair. 
Amid that dim and smoky light. 
Checkering the silvery moon-shine bright, 

A bishop by the altar stood, 2 

A noble Lord of Douglas blood, 
With mitre sheen, and rocquet white. 

1 [MS. — "You might not by their shine descry."] 

2 The weil-known Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, son of Archibald 
Bell-the-Cat, Earl of Angus. He was author of a Scottish metrical version of 
the /Eneid, and of many other poetical pieces of great merit. He had not at 
this period attained the mitre. 



246 • MARMION. [canto vi. 

Yet show'd his meek and thoughtful eye 
But little pride of prelacy ; 
More pleased that, in a barbarous age, 
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page, 
Than that beneath his rule he held 
The bishopric of fair Dunkeld. 
Beside him ancient Angus stood, 
Doff'd his furr'd gown, and sable hood : 
O'er his huge form and visage pale, 
He wore a cap and shirt of mail ; 
And lean'd his large and wrinkled hand 
Upon the huge and sweeping brand 
Which wont of yore, in battle fray, 
His foeman's limbs to shred away, 
As wood-knife lops the sapling spray. 1 

He seem'd as, from the tombs around 
Rising at judgment-day, 

Some giant Douglas may be found 
In all his old array ; 
So pale his face, so huge his limb, 
So old his arms, his look so grim. 

XII. 

Then at the altar Wilton kneels, 

And Clare the spurs bound on his heels ; 

1 Angus had strength and personal activity corresponding to his courage. 
Spens of Kilspindie, a favorite of James IV., having spoken of him lightly, the 
Earl met him while hawking, and compelling him to single combat, at one blow 
cut asunder his thigh bone, and killed him on the spot. But ere he could 
obtain James's pardon for this slaughter, Angus was obliged to yield his castle 
of Hermitage in exchange for that of Bothvvell, which was some diminution to 
the family greatness. The sword with which he struck so remarkable a blow 
was presented by his descendant James, Earl of Morton, afterwards Regent of 
Scotland, to Lord Lindesay of the Byres, when he defied Bothwell to single 
combat on Carberry-hill. See Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 247 

And think what next he must have felt, 
At buckling of the falchion belt ! 

And judge how Clara changed her hue, 
While fastening to her lover's side 
A friend, which, though in danger tried, 

He once had found untrue ! 
Then Douglas struck him with his blade : 
" Saint Michael and Saint Andrew aid, 

I dub thee knight. 
Arise, Sir Ralph, De Wilton's heir ! 
For King, for Church, for Lady fair, 

See that thou fight." — 1 
And Bishop Gawain, as he rose, 
Said — " Wilton ! grieve not for thy woes, 

Disgrace and trouble ; 
For He, who honor best bestows, 

May give thee double." — 
De Wilton sobb'd, for sob he must — 
" Where'er I meet a Douglas, trust 

That Douglas is my brother ! " 
" Nay, nay," old Angus said, " not so ; 
To Surrey's camp thou now must go, 

Thy wrongs no longer smother. 
I have two sons in yonder field ; 
And, if thou meet'st them under shield, 
Upon them bravely — do thy worst ; 
And foul fall him that blenches first ! " 



XIII. 

Not far advanced was morning day, 
When Marmion did his troop array 

1 [" The following (five lines) are a sort of mongrel between the school of 
Sternhold and Hopkins, and the later one of Mr. Wordsworth." — JEFFREY.] 



248 MARMION. [canto vi. 

To Surrey's camp to ride ; 
He had safe conduct for his band, 
Beneath the royal seal and hand, 

And Douglas gave a guide : 
The ancient Earl, with stately grace, 
Would Clara on her palfrey place, 
And whisper' d in an under tone, 
" Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." — 
The train from out the castle drew, 1 
But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu : — 

"Though something I might plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your King's behest, 

While in Tantallon's towers I staid ; 
Part we in friendship from your land, 
And, noble Earl, receive my hand." — 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 
" My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still 
Be open, at my Sovereign's will, 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 2 
My castles are my King's alone, 
From turret to foundation-stone — 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp." — 

XIV. 

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
And shook his very frame for ire, 

1 [MS. — " The train the portal arch pass'd through."] 

2 [MS. — " Unmeet they be to harbor here."] 




Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " 

Canto vi. 14. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 249 

And — "This to me ! " he said, 
" An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer, 
He, who does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate : 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

Even in thy pitch of pride, 
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
And lay your hands upon your sword,) 
/ I tell thee, thou'rt defied ! 
And if thou said'st, I am not peer 
To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " — l 
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age : 
Fierce he broke forth, — " And darest thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall? 
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? — 
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
Up drawbridge, grooms — what, Warder, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." — 2 

1 [MS. — " False Douglas, thou hast lied."] 

2 This ebullition of violence in the potent Earl of Angus is not without its 
example in the real history of the house of Douglas, whose chieftains possessed 
the ferocity, with the heroic virtues, of a savage state. The most curious 
instance occurred in the case of Maclellan, Tutor of Bomby, who, having refused 
to acknowledge the pre-eminence claimed by Douglas over the gentlemen and 
Barons of Galloway, was seized and imprisoned by the Earl in his castle of the 
Thrieve, on the borders of Kirkcudbrightshire. Sir Patrick Gray, commander 



250 M ARM ION'. [canto vi. 

Lord Marmion turn'd, — well was his need, 
And dash'd the rowels in his steed, 
Like arrow through the archway sprung, 
The ponderous grate behind him rung : 
To pass there was such scanty room, 
The bars descending, razed his plume. 

XV. 

The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Nor lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim : 

And when Lord Marmion reach 'd his band, 

He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 

And shout of loud defiance pours, 

And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 

" Horse ! horse ! " the Douglas cried, " and chase ! " 



of King James the Second's guard, was uncle to the Tutor of Bomby, and 
obtained from the King a " sweet letter of supplication," praying the Earl to 
deliver his prisoner into Gray's hand. When Sir Patrick arrived at the castle 
he was received with all the honor due to a favorite servant of the King's house- 
hold ; but while he was at dinner, the Earl, who suspected his errand, caused 
his prisoner to be led forth and beheaded. After dinner, Sir Patrick presented 
the King's letter to the Earl, who received it with great affectation of reverence; 
"and took him by the hand, and led him forth to the green, where the gentle- 
man was lying dead, and showed him the manner, and said, ' Sir Patrick, you 
are come a little too late ; yonder is your sister's son lying, but he wants the 
head: take his body, and do with it what you will.' — Sir Patrick answered 
again, with a sore heart, and said, ' My Lord, if ye have taken from him his 
head, dispone upon the body as ye please ' ; and with that called for his 
horse, and leaped thereon : and when he was on horseback he said to the Earl 
on this manner, * My lord, if I live, you shall be rewarded for your labors that 
you have used at this time, according to your demerits.' 

" At this saying the Earl was highly offended, and cried for horse. Sir Pat- 
rick, seeing the Earl's fury, spurred his horse, but he was chased near Edin- 
burgh ere they left him : and had it not been his led horse was so tried and 
good, he had been taken." — PlTSCOTTlE's History, p. 39. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 25 1 

But soon he rein'd his fury's pace : 
" A royal messenger he came, 
Though most unworthy of the name. — 
A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed ! 
Did ever knight so foul a deed ! 1 
At first in heart it liked me ill, 
When the King praised his clerkly skill. 
Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, 2 
Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line : 
So swear I, and I swear it still, 
Let my boy-bishop fret his fill. — 
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! 
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 
I thought to slay him where he stood, 
'Tis pity of him too," he cried : 
" Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, 
I warrant him a warrior tried." 
With this his mandate he recalls, 
And slowly seeks his castle halls. 

XVI. 

The day in Marmion's journey wore ; 
Yet, e'er his passion's gust was o'er, 
They cross'd the heights of Stanrig-moor. 

1 Lest the reader should partake of the Earl's astonishment, and consider 
the crime as inconsistent with the manners of the period, I have to remind him 
of the numerous forgeries (partly executed by a female assistant) devised by 
Robert of Artois, to forward his suit against the Countess Matilda; which, 
being detected, occasioned his flight into England, and proved the remote 
cause of Edward the Third's memorable wars in France. John Harding, also, 
was expressly hired by Edward IV. to forge such documents as might appear 
to establish the claim of fealty asserted over Scotland by the English monarchs. 

2 [MS. — " Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine 

Could never pen a written line, 
So swear I, and I swear it still, 
Let brother Gawain fret his fill."] 



252 M ARM ION. [canto vi. 

His troop more closely there he scann'd, 
And miss'd the Palmer from the band. — 
"Palmer or not," young Blount did say, 
" He parted at the peep of day ; 
Good sooth, it was in strange array." — 
" In what array ? " said Marmion, quick. 
" My Lord, I ill can spell the trick ; 
But all night long, with clink and bang, 
Close to my couch did hammers clang ; 
At dawn the falling drawbridge rang, 
And from a loop-hole while I peep, 
Old Bell-the-Cat came from the Keep, 
Wrapp'd in a gown of sables fair, 
As fearful of the morning air \ 
Beneath, when that was blown aside, 
A rusty shirt of mail I spied, 
By Archibald won in bloody work, 
Against the Saracen and Turk : 
Last night it hung not in the hall ; 
I thought some marvel would befall, 
And next I saw them saddled lead 
Old Cheviot forth, the Earl's best steed ; 
A matchless horse, though something old, 
Prompt to his paces, cool and bold. 
I heard the Sheriff Sholto say, 
The Earl did much the Master 1 pray 
To use him on the battle-day ; 

But he preferr'd " " Nay, Henry, cease ! 

Thou sworn horse -courser, hold thy peace. — 
Eustace, thou bear'st a brain — I pray, 
What did Blount see at break of day?" — 

1 His eldest son, the Master of Angus. 



canto vl] THE BATTLE. 253 

XVII. 

" In brief, my lord, we both descried 
(For then I stood by Henry's side) 
The Palmer mount, and outwards ride, 

Upon the Earl's own favorite steed : 
All sheathed he was in armor bright, 
And much resembled that same knight, 
Subdued by you in Cotswold fight : 

Lord Angus wish'd him speed." — 
The instant that Fitz-Eustace spoke, 
A sudden light on Marmion broke ; — 
" Ah ! dastard fool, to reason lost ! " 
He mutter'd ; " 'Twas nor fay nor ghost 
I met upon the moonlight wold, 
But living man of earthly mould. — 

O dotage blind and gross ! 
Had I but fought as wont, one thrust 
Had laid De Wilton in the dust, 

My path no more to cross. — 
How stand we now ? — he told his tale 
To Douglas ; and with some avail ; 

'Twas therefore gloom'd his rugged brow. — 
Will Surrey dare to entertain, 
'Gainst Marmion, charge disproved and vain? 

Small risk of that, I trow. 
Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun ; 
Must separate Constance from the Nun — 
/ O, what a tangled web we weave, \ 
y When first we practise, to deceive \J 
A Palmer too ! — no wonder why 
I felt rebuked beneath his eye : 
I might have known there was but one, 
Whose look could quell Lord Marmion." 



254 MARMION. [canto yi. 

XVIII. 
Stung with these thoughts, he urged to speed 
His troop, and reach'd, at eve, the Tweed, 
Where Lennel's convent x closed their march, 
(There now is left but one frail arch, 

Yet mourn thou not its cells ; 
Our time a fair exchange has made ; 
Hard by, in hospitable shade, 

A reverend pilgrim dwells, 
Well worth the whole Bernardine brood, 
That e'er wore sandal, frock, or hood.) 
Yet did Saint Bernard's Abbot there 
Give Marmion entertainment fair, 
And lodging for his train and Clare. 2 
Next morn the Baron climb' d the tower, 
To view afar the Scottish power, 

Encamp'd on Flodden edge : 
The white pavilions made a show, 
Like remnants of the winter snow,* 

Along the dusky ridge. 
Long Marmion look'd : — at length his eye 
Unusual movement might descry 

Amid the shifting lines : 
The Scottish host drawn out appears, 
For, flashing on the hedge of spears, 

1 This was a Cistertian house of religion, now almost entirely demolished. 
Lennel House is now the residence of my venerable friend, Patrick Brydone, 
Esquire, so well known in the literary world* It is situated near Coldstream, 
almost opposite to Cornhill, and consequently very near to Flodden Field. 

2 ["From this period to the conclusion of the poem, Mr. Scott's genius, so 
long overclouded, bursts forth in full lustre, and even transcends itself. It is 
impossible to do him justice by making extracts, when all is equally attractive." 
— Monthly Revicw^\ 

* First Edition. — Mr. Brydone has been many years dead. 1825 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 2 t>$ 

The eastern sunbeam shines. 
Their front now deepening, now extending ; 
Their flank inclining, wheeling, bending, 
Now drawing back, and now descending, 
The skilful Marmion well could know, 
They watch'd the motions of some foe, 
Who traversed on the plain below. 

XIX. 

Even so it was. From Flodden ridge 
The Scots beheld the English host 
Leave Barmore-wood, their evening post, 
And heedful watch'd them as they cross'd 

The Till by Twisel Bridge. 1 

High sight it is, and haughty, while 

1 On the evening previous to the memorable battle of Flodden, Surrey's 
headquarters were at Barmoor Wood, and King James held an inaccessible 
position on the ridge of Flodden-hill, one of the last and lowest eminences 
detached from the ridge of Cheviot. The Till, a deep and slow river, winded 
between the armies. On the morning of the 9th September, 1513, Surrey 
marched in a north-westerly direction, and crossed the Till with his van and 
artillery at Twisel-bridge, nigh where that river joins the Tweed, his rear-guard 
column passing about a mile higher, by a ford. This movement had the double 
effect of placing his army between King James and his supplies from Scotland, 
and of striking the Scottish monarch with surprise, as he seems to have relied 
on the depth of the river in his front. But as the passage both over the bridge 
and through the ford was difficult and slow, it seems possible that the English 
might have been attacked to great advantage while struggling with these natu- 
ral obstacles. I know not if we are to impute James's forbearance to want of 
military skill, or to the romantic declaration which Pitscottie puts in his mouth, 
" that he was determined to have his enemies before him on a plain field," and 
therefore would suffer no interruption to be given, even by artillery, to their 
passing the river. 

The ancient bridge of Twisel, by which the English crossed the Till, is still 
[standing beneath Twisel Castle, a splendid pile of Gothic architecture, as now 
rebuilt by Sir Francis Blake, Bart., whose extensive plantations have so much 
improved the country around. The glen is romantic and delightful, with steep 
banks on each side covered with copse, particularly with hawthorn. Beneath a 
tall rock, near the bridge, is a plentiful fountain called St. Helen's Well. 



256 MARMTON. [canto vi. 

They dive into the deep defile ; 

Beneath the cavern'd cliff they fall, 

Beneath the castle's airy wall. 
By rock, by oak, by hawthorn- tree, 

Troop after troop are disappearing ; 

Troop after troop their banners rearing, 
Upon the eastern bank you see. 
Still pouring down the rocky den, 

Where flows the sullen Till, 
And rising from the dim-wood glen, 
Standards on standards, men on men, 

In slow succession still, 
And, sweeping o'er the Gothic arch, 
And pressing on, in ceaseless march, 

To gain the opposing hill. 
That morn, to many a trumpet clang, 
Twisel ! thy rock's deep echo rang ; 
And many a chief of birth and rank, 
Saint Helen ! at thy fountain drank. 
Thy hawthorn glade, which now we see 
In spring-tide bloom so lavishly, 
Had then from many an axe its doom, 
To give the marching columns room. 



XX. 

And why stands Scotland idly now, 
Dark Flodden ! on thy airy brow, 
Since England gains the pass the while, 
And struggles through the deep defile ? 
What checks the fiery soul of James? 
Why sits that champion of the dames 

Inactive on his steed, 
And sees, between him and his land, 



canto VI.] THE BA TTLE. 257 

Between him and Tweed's southern strand, 

His host Lord Surrey lead ? 
What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand ? — 
O, Douglas, for thy leading wand ! 

Fierce Randolph, for thy speed ! 
O for one hour of Wallace wight, 
Or well-skilFd Bruce, to rule the fight, 
And cry — " Saint Andrew and our right ! " 
Another sight had seen that morn, 
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn, 
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne ! — 
The precious hour has pass'd in vain, 
And England's host has gain'd the plain ; 
Wheeling their march, and circling still, 
Around the base of Flodden hill. 

XXI. 

Ere yet the bands met Marmion's eye, 1 
Fitz-Eustace shouted loud and high, 
" Hark ! hark ! my lord, an English drum ! 
And see ascending squadrons come 

Between Tweed's river and the hill, 
Foot, horse, and cannon : — hap what hap, 
My basnet to a prentice cap, 

Lord Surrey's o'er the Till ! — 
Yet more ! yet more ! — how far array'd 
They file from out the hawthorn shade, 

And sweep so gallant by ! 2 
With all their banners bravely spread, 

And all their armor flashing high, 
Saint George might waken from the dead, 

To see fair England's standards fly." — 

1 [MS. — " Ere first they met Lord Marmion's eye."] 

2 [MS. — " And all go sweeping by."] 



258 M ARM ION. [canto vi. 

" Stint in thy prate," quoth Blount, " thou'dst best, 

And listen to our lord's behest." — J 

With kindling brow Lord Marmion said, — 

" This instant be our band array'd ; 

The river must be quickly cross'd, 

That we may join Lord Surrey's host. 

If fight King James, — as well I trust, 

That fight he will, and fight he must, — 

The Lady Clare behind our lines 

Shall tarry, while the battle joins." 

XXII. 
Himself he swift on horseback threw, 
Scarce to the Abbot bade adieu ; 
Far less would listen to his prayer, 
To leave behind the helpless Clare. 
Down to the Tweed his band he drew, 
And mutter'd as the flood they view, 
"The pheasant in the falcon's claw, 
He scarce will yield to please a daw : 
Lord Angus may the Abbot awe, 
So Clare shall bide with me." 
Then on that dangerous ford, and deep, 
Where to the Tweed Leat's eddies creep, 2 

1 ["The speeches of Squire Blount are a great deal too unpolished for a 
noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On two occasions, to specify no more, he 
addresses his brother squire in these cacophonius lines, — 

' St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand 
All day with bonnet in thy hand ; ' 
And, 

' Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, ' thoti 'dst best, 
And listen to our lord's behest.' 
Neither can we be-brought to admire the simple dignity of Sir Hugh the Heron, 

who thus encourageth his nephew, — 

' By my fay, 
Well hast thou spoke — say forth thy say.' " — Jeffrey.] 

2 [MS. — " Where to the Tweed Leafs tributes creep."] 



canto vi. ] THE BATTLE. 259 

He ventured desperately : 
And not a moment will he bide, 
Till squire, or groom, before him ride ; 
Headmost of all he stems the tide, 

And stems it gallantly. 
Eustace held Clare upon her horse, 

Old Hubert led her rein, 
Stoutly they braved the current's course, 
And, though far downward driven per force, 

The southern bank they gain ; 
Behind them, straggling, came to shore, 

As best they might, the train : 
Each o'er his head his yew-bow bore, 

A caution not in vain ; 
Deep need that day that every string, 
By wet unharm'd, should sharply ring. 
A moment then Lord Marmion staid, 
And breathed his steed, his men array'd, 

Then forward moved his band, 
Until, Lord Surrey's rear-guard won, 
He halted by a Cross of Stone, 
That, on a hillock standing lone, 

Did all the field command. 

XXIII. 
Hence might they see the full array 
Of either host, for deadly fray ; l 
Their marshalPd lines stretch' d east and west, 9 

And fronted north and south, 
And distant salutation pass'd 

From the loud cannon mouth ; 
Not in the close successive rattle, 

1 [See Appendix, Note Q.] 

- [MS. — " Their lines were form'd, stretch 'd east and west."] 



260 MARMION. [canto vi. 

That breathes the voice of modern battle, 

But slow and far between. — 
The hillock gain'd, Lord Marmion staid : 
" Here, by this Cross," he gently said, 

" You well may view the scene. 
Here shalt thou tarry, lovely Clare : 
O ! think of Marmion in thy prayer ! — 
Thou wilt not ? — well, no less my care 
Shall, watchful, for thy weal prepare. — 
You, Blount and Eustace, are her guard, 

With ten pick'd archers of my train ; 
With England if the day go hard, 

To Berwick speed amain. — 
But if we conquer, cruel maid, 
My spoils shall at your feet be laid, 

When here we meet again." 
He waited not for answer there, 
And would not mark the maid's despair, 1 

Nor heed the discontented look 
From either squire ; but spurr'd amain, 
And, dashing through the battle-plain, 

His way to Surrey took. 

XXIV. 

" The good Lord Marmion, by my life ! 



Welcome to danger's hour ! — 
Short greeting serves in time of strife : — 

Thus have I ranged my power : 
Myself will rule this central host, 

Stout Stanley fronts their right, 
My sons command the vaward post, 

1 [MS. — " Nor mark'd the lady's deep despair, 
Nor heeded discontented look."] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 2 6l 

With Brian Tunstall, stainless knight ; 1 

Lord Dacre, with his horseman light, 

Shall be in rear-ward of the fight, 
And succor those that need it most. 

Now, gallant Marmion, well I know, 

Would gladly to the vanguard go ; 
Edmund, the Admiral, Tunstall there, 
With thee their charge will blithely share ; 
There fight thine own retainers too, 
Beneath De Burg, thy steward true." — 2 
"Thanks, noble Surrey ! " Marmion said, 
Nor farther greeting there he paid ; 
But, parting like a thunderbolt, 
First in the vanguard made a halt, 

Where such a shout there rose 
Of " Marmion ! Marmion ! " that the cry, 
Up Flodden mountain shrilling high, 

Startled the Scottish foes. 

XXV. 

Blount and Fitz-Eustace rested still 
With Lady Clare upon the hill ; 
On which, (for far the day was spent,) 
The western sunbeams now were bent. 
The cry they heard, its meaning knew, 
Could plain their distant comrades view : 

1 Sir Brian Tunstall, called in the romantic language of the time, Tunstall 
the Undefiled, was one of the few Englishmen of rank slain at Flodden. He 
figures in the ancient English poem, to which I may safely refer my readers ; 
as an edition, with full explanatory notes, has been published by my friend, Mr. 
Henry Weber. Tunstall, perhaps, derived his epithet of undefiled from his 
white armor and banner, the latter bearing a white cock, about to crow, as well 
as from his unstained loyalty and knightly faith. His place of residence was 
Thurland Castle. 

2 [MS. — "Beneath thy seneschal, Fitz Hugh."] 



262 M ARM ION. fCANTO vi. 



Sadly to Blount did Eustace say, 
" Unworthy office here to stay ! 
No hope of gilded spurs to-day. — 
But see ! look up — on Flodden bent 
The Scottish foe has fired his tent." 

And sudden, as he spoke, 
From the sharp ridges of the hill, 1 
All downward to the banks of Till, 

Was wreathed in sable smoke. 
Volumed and fast, and rolling far, 
The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, 

As down the hill they broke ; 
Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone, 
Announced their march ; their tread alone, 
At times one warning trumpet blown, 

At times a stifled hum, 
Told England, from his mountain-throne 

King James did rushing come. — 
Scarce could they hear, or see their foes, 

Until at weapon-point they close. — 2 
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,' 
With sword-sway, and with lances thrust ; 

And such a yell was there, 
Of sudden and portentous birth, 
As if men fought upon the earth, 

And fiends in upper air ; 3 
Oh, life and death were in the shout, 
Recoil and rally, charge and rout, 



1 [" Of all the poetical battles which have been fought, from the days of 
Homer to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our opinion, at all compara- 
ble, for interest and animation, — for breadth of drawing and magnificence of 
effect, — with this of Mr. Scott's." — J kffrey.] 

2 [This couplet is not in the MS.] 

3 [The next three lines are not in the MS.] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 2 6$ 

And triumph and despair. 
Long look'd the anxious squires ; their eye 
Could in the darkness nought descry. 

XXVI. 

At length the freshening western blast 

Aside the shroud of. battle cast; 

And, first, the ridge of mingled spears l 

Above the brightening cloud appears ; 

And in the smoke the pennons flew, 

As in the storm the white sea-mew. 

Then mark'd they, dashing broad and far, 

The broken billows of the war, 

And plumed crests of chieftains brave, 

Floating like foam upon the wave ; 

But nought distinct they see : 
Wide raged the battle on the plain ; 
Spears shook, and falchions flash 'd amain ; 
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ; 
Crests rose, and stoop'd, and rose again, 

Wild and disorderly. 
Amid the scene of tumult, high 
They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly : 
And stainless Tunstall's banner white, 
And Edmund Howard's lion bright, 
Still bear them bravely in the fight ; 

Although against them come, 
Of gallant Gordons many a one, 
And many a stubborn Badenoch-man, 2 
And many a rugged Border clan, 

With Huntly, and with Home. 

1 [MS. — "And first the broken ridge of spears."] 

2 [In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the correction of the 
author's interleaved copy of the edition of 1830.] 



264 MARMION. [canto vi. 



XXVII. 

Far on the left, unseen the while, 
Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; 
Though there the western mountaineer x 
Rush'd with bare bosom on the spear, 
And flung the feeble targe aside, 
And with both hands the broadsword plied. 
'Twas vain : — But Fortune, on the right, 
With fickle smile, cheer'd Scotland's fight. 
Then fell that spotless banner white, 2 

The Howard's lion fell ; 
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew 
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew 

Around the battle-yell. 
The Border slogan rent the sky ! 
A Home ! a Gordon ! was the cry : 

Loud were the clanging blows ; 
Advanced, — forced back, — now low, now high, 

The pennon sunk and rose ; 
As bends the bark's mast in the gale, 
When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, 

It waver'd 'mid the foes. 
No longer Blount the view could bear : 
" By Heaven, and all its saints ! I swear 

I will not see it lost ! 
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare 3 
May bid your beads, and patter prayer, — 

I gallop to the host." 

1 [MS. — " Though there the dauntless mountaineer."] 

2 [MS. — " Fell stainless Tunstall's banner white, 

Sir Edmund's lion fell."] 

3 [MS. — "Fitz-Eustace, you and Lady Clare 

May for its safety join in prayer."] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 2 6$ 

And to the fray he rode amain, 
Follow' d by all the archer train. 
The fiery youth, with desperate charge, 
Made, for a space, an opening large, — 

The rescued banner rose, — 
But darkly closed the war around, 
Like pine-tree rooted from the ground ! 

It sank among the foes. 
Then Eustace mounted too : — yet staid, 
As loth to leave the helpless maid, 

When, fast as shaft can fly, 
Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, 
The loose rein dangling from his head, 
Housing and saddle bloody red, 

Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by ; 
And Eustace, maddening at the sight, 

A look and sign to Clara cast, 

To mark he would return in haste, 2 
Then plunged into the fight. 

XXVIII. 

Ask me not what the maiden feels, 

Left in that dreadful hour alone : 
Perchance her reason stoops, or reels ; 

Perchance a courage, not her own, 
Braces her mind to desperate tone. — 
The scatter'd van of England wheels ; — 3 

She only said, as loud in air 

The tumult roar'd, " Is Wilton there ? " — 

1 [MS. — " Like pine up-rooted from the ground."] 

2 [MS. — "And cried he would return in haste."] 

8 [MS. — "Repulsed, the band ) -_ < „ , , „, 
it. ** <a ■ \ of England wheels."] 
The scatter d wing J J 



2 66 M ARM ION. [canto vi 



They fly, or, madden'd by despair, 

Fight but to die, — " Is Wilton there ? " — 
With that, straight up the hill there rode 

Two horsemen drench'd with gore, 
And in their arms a helpless load, 

A wounded knight they bore. 
His hand still strain 'd the broken brand ; 
His arms were smear'd with blood and sand : 
Dragg'd from among the horses' feet, 
With dinted shield, and helmet beat, 
The falcon-crest and plumage gone, 
Can that be haughty Marmion ! . . . 1 
Young Blount his armor did unlace, 
And gazing on his ghastly face, 

Said — "By Saint George, he's gone ! 
That spear-wound has our master sped, 
And see the deep cut on his head ! 

Good-night to Marmion." — 
" Unnurtured Blount ! thy brawling cease : 
He opes his eyes," said Eustace ; " peace ! " 

XXIX. 

When, doff'd his casque, he felt free air, 2 
Around gan Marmion wildly stare : — 
"Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where? 
Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ! 
Redeem my pennon, — charge again ! 
Cry — ' Marmion to the rescue ! ' — Vain ! 
Last of my race, on battle-plain 
That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! — 

1 [MS. — " Can that be \ t Lord Marmion ! "J 

2 [MS. — " And when he felt the fresher air."] 



canto vi.J THE BATTLE. 2 6y 

Yet my last thought is England's — fly, 1 

To Dacre bear my signet-ring : 

Tell him his squadrons up to bring. — 
Fitz- Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie ; 

Tunstall lies dead upon the field, 

His life-blood stains the spotless shield ; 

Edmund is down ; — my life is reft ; 

The Admiral alone is left. 

Let Stanley charge with spur of fire, — 

With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 

Full upon Scotland's central host, 2 

Or victory and England's lost. — 

Must I bid twice? — hence, varlets ! fly ! 

Leave Marmion here alone — to die." 

They parted, and alone he lay ; 

Clare drew her from the sight away, 
Till pain wrung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmur'd — " Is there none, 

Of all my halls have nurst, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring 
Of blessed water from the spring, 

To slake my dying thirst ! " 

XXX. 

O, Woman ! in our hours of ease, 
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
And variable as the shade 
By the light quivering aspen made ; 
When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
A ministering angel thou ! — 

1 [MS. — "Yet my last thought's for England — hie, 

To Dacre give my signet-ring. . . . 
Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey _/?/."] 

2 [MS. — " Full on King James's central host."] 



268 MARMION. [canto vi. 

Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When, with the Baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears ; 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 1 
She stoop'd her by the runnel's side, 2 

But in abhorrence backward drew ; 
For, oozing from the mountain's side, 
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! — behold her mark 

A little fountain cell, 
Where water clear as diamond-spark, 

In a stone basin fell. 
Above, some half-worn letters say, 
jlrink. huearg. pilgrim, brink, am}, prag. 
Jfor. %. kino, soul. of. %Ml. tog. 



1 [" The hero of the piece, Marmion, who has been guilty of seducing a 
nun, and abandoning her to be buried alive, of forgery to ruin a friend, and of 
perfidy in endeavoring to seduce away from him the object of his tenderest 
affections, fights and dies gloriously, and is indebted to the injured Clara for 
the last drop of water to cool his dying thirst. This last act of disinterested 
attention extorts from the author the smoothest, sweetest, and tenderest lines in 
the whole poem. It is with pleasure that we extract numbers so harmonious 
from the discords by which they are surrounded." — Critical Review.] 

2 [MS. — "She stoop'd her by the runnel's tide, 

But in abhorrence soon withdrew, 
For, oozing from the mountains wide 
Where raged the war, a dark-red tide 

Was curdling in the streamlet blue. 
Where shall she turn ! behold, she marks 

A little vaulted cell, 
Whose water, clear as diamond-sparks, 

In a rude basin fell. 
Above, some half-worn letters say, 

"Drink, passing pilgrim, drink, and pray."] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 269 



ro. built, ijris. cross, attb. feell. 
She fill'd the helm, and back she hied; 
And with surprise and joy espied 

A Monk supporting Marmion's head ; 
A pious man, whom duty brought 
To dubious verge of battle fought, 

To shrieve the dying, bless the dead. 

XXXI. 

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave, 
And, as she stoop'd his brow to lave — 
" Is it the hand of Clare," he said, 
" Or injured Constance, bathes my head?" 

Then, as remembrance rose, — 
" Speak not to me of shrift or prayer ! 

I must redress her woes. 
Short space, few words, are mine to spare ; 
Forgive and listen, gentle Clare ! " — 

" Alas ! " she said, " the while, — 
O, think of your immortal weal ! 
In vain for Constance is your zeal ; 

She died at Holy Isle." — 

Lord Marmion started from the ground, 
As light as if he felt no wound ; 
Though in the action burst the tide, 
In torrents from his wounded side. 
" Then it was truth," — he said, — "I knew 
That the dark presage must be true. — 
I would the Fiend, to whom belongs 
The vengeance due to all her wrongs, 

Would spare me but a day ! 
For wasting fire, and dying groan, 1 

1 [MS. — " Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan, 

And priests gorged on the altar stone 



270 MARMION. [canto vi. 

And priests slain on the altar stone, 

Might bribe him for delay. 
It may not be ! — this dizzy trance — 
Curse on yon base marauder's lance, 
And doubly cursed my failing brand ! 
A sinful heart makes feeble hand." 
Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, 
Supported by the trembling Monk. 

XXXII. 

With fruitless labor, Clara bound, 

And strove to stanch the gushing wound : 

The Monk, with unavailing cares, 

Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear, 

And that the priest he could not hear ; 

For that she ever sung, 
" In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying! " 

So the notes rung ; — 
" Avoid thee, Fiend ! — with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! — 
O, look, my son, upon yon sign ] 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 

Might bribe him for delay. 
And all by whom the deed was done, 
Should with myself become his own. 

It may not be." ] 

1 [MS. — " O, look, my son, upon this cross, 
O, think upon the grace divine, 

On saints and heavenly bliss! — 
By many a sinner's bed I've been, 
And many a dismal parting seen, 

But never aught like this."] 




' With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade " 

Canto vi. 



32. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 27 1 

O, think on faith and bliss ! 
By many a death-bed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this." — 
The war, that, for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 

And Stanley ! was the cry ; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye : J 
With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! — 
Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " 
Were the last words of Marmion. 

XXXIII. 

By this, though deep the evening fell, 
Still rose the battle's deadly swell, 
For still the Scots, around their King, 
Unbroken, fought in desperate ring. 
Where's now their victor vaward wing, 

Where Huntly, and where Home ? — 
O, for a blast of that dread horn, 
On Fontarabian echoes borne, 

That to King Charles did come, 
When Rowland brave, and Olivier, 
And every paladin and peer, 

On Roncesvalles died ! 
Such blasts might warn them, not in vain, 
To quit the plunder of the slain, 
And turn the doubtful day again, 

While yet on Flodden side, 

1 [MS. — "And sparkled in his eye."] 



272 MARMION. [canto Vi. 

Afar the Royal Standard flies, 

And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies, 

Our Caledonian pride ! 
In vain the wish — for far away, 
While spoil and havoc mark their way, 
Near Sybil's Cross the plunderers stray. — 
" O, Lady," cried the Monk, " away! " * 

And placed her on her steed, 
And led her to the chapel fair, 

Of Tilmouth upon Tweed. 
There all the night they spent in prayer, 
And at the dawn of morning, there 
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare. 

XXXIV. 

But as they left the dark'ning heath, 2 
More desperate grew the strife of death, 
The English shafts in volleys hail'd, 
In headlong charge their horse assail'd ; 
Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep 
To break the Scottish circle deep, 

That fought around their King. 
But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, 
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, 
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, 

Unbroken was the ring ; 
The stubborn spear-men still made good 3 

1 [MS. — " In vain the wish — for far they stray, 

And spoil and havoc mark'd their way. 
' O, Lady,' cried the monk, ' away !' "] 

2 [MS. — " But still upon the darkening heath."] 

3 [MS. — " Ever the stubborn spears made good 

Their dark impenetrable wood; 
Each Scot stepp'd where his comrade stood, 
The instant that he fell, 



canto vi.J THE BATTLE. 273 

Their dark impenetrable wood, 

Each stepping where his comrade stood, 

The instant that he fell. 
No thought was there of dastard flight ; 
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight, 
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, 

As fearlessly and well ; 
Till utter darkness closed her wing 
O'er their thin host and wounded King. 
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Led back from strife his shatter'd bands ; 

And from the charge they drew, 
As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, 

Sweep back to ocean blue. 
Then did their loss his foemen know ; 
Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low, 
They melted from the field, as snow, 
When streams are swoln and south winds blow, 

Dissolves in silent dew. 
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, 

While many a broken band, 
Disorder'd, through her currents dash, 

Till the last ray of parting light, 

Then ceased perforce the dreadful fight, 

And sunk the battle's yell. • 

The skilful Surrey's sage commands 
Drew from the strife his shatter'd bands. 

Their loss his foemen knew ; 
Their King, their Lords, their mightiest low, 
They melted from the field as snow, 
When streams are swoln and south winds blow, 

Melts from the mountain blue. 
By various march their scatter'd bands, 
Disorder'd, gain'd the Scottish lands. — . 
Day dawns on Flodden's dreary side, 
And show'd the scene of carnage wide : 
There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride ! "] 



274 MARMION. [canto vi. 

To gain the Scottish land; 
To town and tower, to down and dale, 
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, 
And raise the universal wail. 1 
Tradition, legend, tune, and song, 
Shall many an age that wail prolong : 
Still from the sire the son shall hear 
Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, 

Of Flodden's fatal field, 
Where shiver 'd was fair Scotland's spear, 

And broken was her shield ! 

XXXV. 

Day dawns upon the mountain side : — 2 
There, Scotland ! lay thy bravest pride, 
Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one : 
The sad survivors all are gone. — 
View not that corpse mistrustfully, 
Defaced and mangled though it be ; 
Nor to yon Border castle high, 
Look northward with upbraiding eye ; 
Nor cherish hope in vain, 

1 [" The powerful poetry of these passages can receive no illustrations from 
any praises or observations of ours. It is superior, in our apprehension, to all 
that this author has hitherto produced ; and, with a few faults of diction, equal 
to anything that has ever been written upon similar subjects. From the mo- 
ment the author gets in sight of Flodden field, indeed, to the end of the poem, 
there is no tame writing, and no intervention of ordinary passages. He does 
not once flag or grow tedious ; and neither stops to describe dresses and cere- 
monies, nor to commemorate the harsh names of feudal barons from the Bor- 
der. There is a flight of five or six hundred lines, in short, in which he never 
stoops his wing, nor wavers in his course ; but carries the reader forward with a 
more rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than any epic bard that we can at 
present remember." — JEFFREY.] 

2 [" Day glimmers on the dying and the dead, 

The cloven cuirass, and the helmless head," &c. 

Byron's Lara.] 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 275 

That, journeying far on foreign strand, 
The Royal Pilgrim to his land 

May yet return again. 
He saw the reck his rashness wrought ; 
Reckless of life, he desperate fought, 

And fell on Flodden plain : 
And well in death his trusty brand, 
Firm clench'd within his manly hand, 

Beseem'd the monarch slain. 1 
But, O ! how changed since yon blithe night ! — 

1 There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of Flodden. He 
was killed, says the curious French Gazette, within a lance's length of the Earl 
of Surrey; and the same account adds, that none of his division were made 
prisoners, though many were killed : a circumstance that testifies the despera- 
tion of their resistance. The Scottish historians record many of the idle rt£ 
ports which passed among the vulgar of their day. Home was accused, by 
the popular voice, not only of failing to support the King, but even of having 
carried him out of the field, and murdered him. And this tale was revived in 
my remembrance, by an unauthenticated story of a skeleton, wrapped in a bull's 
hide, and surrounded with an iron chain, said to have been found in the well 
of Home Castle; for which, on inquiry, I could never find any better authority 
than the sexton of the parish having said, that, if the well were cleaned out, he 
ivould not be surprised at such a discovery. Home was the chamberlain of the 
King, and his prime favorite; he had much to lose (in fact did lose all) in con- 
sequence of James's death, and nothing earthly to gain by that event; but the 
retreat, or inactivity, of the left wing, which he commanded, after defeating Sir 
Edmund Howard, and even the circumstance of his returning unhurt, and 
loaded with spoil, from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propagation of any 
calumny against him easy and acceptable. Other reports give a still more 
romantic turn to the King's fate, and averred that James, weary of greatness, 
after the carnage among his nobles, had gone on a pilgrimage, to merit abso- 
lution for the death of his father, and the breach of his oath of amity to Henry. 
In particular, it was objected to the English, that they could never show the 
token of the iron belt ; which, however, he was likely enough to have laid aside 
on the day of battle, as encumbering his personal exertions. They produce a 
better evidence, the monarch's sword and dagger, which are still preserved in 
the Herald's College in London. Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the 
disgrace with which the remains of the unfortunate monarch were treated in 
his time. An unhewn column marks the spot where James fell, still called the 
King's Stone. 



2j6 M ARM/0 AT. [canto vi. 

Gladly I turn me from the sight, 
Unto my tale again. 

XXXVI. 

Short is my tale : — Fitz-Eustace' care 

A pierced and mangled body bare 

To moated Lichfield's lofty pile ; 

And there, beneath the southern aisle, 

A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, 

Did long Lord Marmion's image bear, 

(Now vainly for its site you look ; 

'Twas levell'd, when fanatic Brook 

The fair cathedral storm'd and took ; l 

But, thanks to Heaven, and good Saint Chad, 

A guerdon meet the spoiler had !) 

There erst was martial Marmion found, 

His feet upon a couchant hound, 

His hands to Heaven upraised ; 
And all around, on scutcheon rich, 
And tablet carved, and fretted niche, 

His arms and feats were blazed. 
And yet, though all was carved so fair, 
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer, 
The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain 
Follow'd his lord to Flodden plain, — 

1 This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garrisoned on the part 
of the King, took place in the Great Civil War. Lord Brook, who, with Sir 
John Gill, commanded the assailants, was shot with a musket-ball through the 
visor of his helmet. The royalists remarked that he was killed by a shot fired 
from St. Chad's Cathedral, and upon St. Chad's day, and received his death 
wound in the very eye with which, he had said, he hoped to see the ruin of all 
the cathedrals in England. The magnificent church in question suffered cruelly 
upon this and other occasions ; the principal spire being ruined by the fire of 
the besiesrers. 



canto vi.] THE BATTLE. 277 

One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay 
In Scotland mourns as " wede away : " 
Sore wounded, Sybil's Cross he spied, 
And dragg'd him to its foot, and died, 
Close by the noble Marmion's side. 
The spoilers stripp'd and gash'd the slain, 
And thus their corpses were mista'en ; 
And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb, 
The lowly woodsman took the room. 

XXXVII. 

Less easy task it were, to show. 

Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low. 1 

They dug his grave e'en where he lay, 2 
But every mark is gone ; 

Time's wasting hand has done away 

The simple Cross of Sybil Gray, 
And broke her font of stone : 
But yet from out the little hill 3 
Oozes the slender springlet still. 

Oft halts the stranger there, 
For thence may best his curious eye 
The memorable field descry ; 

And shepherd boys repair 
To seek the water-flag and rush, 
And rest them by the hazel bush, 

1 [" A corpse is afterwards conveyed, as that of Marmion, to the Cathedral 
of Lichfield, where a magnificent tomb is erected to his memory, and masses 
are instituted for the repose of his soul ; but, by an admirably-imagined act of 
poetical justice, we are informed that a peasant's body was placed beneath that 
costly monument, while the haughty Baron himself was buried like a vulgar 
corpse, on the spot on which he died." — Monthly Review] 

2 [MS. — " They dug his bed e'en where he lay."] 

3 [MS. — " But yet where swells the little hill."] 



2j8 M ARM ION. . [canto vi. 

And plait their garlands fair ; 
Nor dream they sit upon the grave, 
That holds the bones of Marmion brave. — 
When thou shalt find the little hill, 1 
With thy heart commune, and be still. 
If ever, in temptation strong, 
Thou left'st the right path for the wrong ; 
If every devious step, thus trod, 
Still led thee farther from the road ; 
Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom 
On noble Marm ion's lowly tomb ; 
But say, " He died a gallant knight, 
With sword in hand, for England's right." 

XXXVIII. 
I do not rhyme to that dull elf, 
Who cannot image to himself, 
That all through Flodden's dismal night, 
Wilton was foremost in the fight ; 
That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, 
'Twas Wilton mounted him again ; 
'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hew'd, 2 
Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood : 
Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall, 
He was the living soul of all ; 
That, after fight, his faith made plain, 
He won his rank and lands again ; 
And charged his old paternal shield 
With bearings won on Flodden Field. 
Nor sing I to that simple maid, 

1 [MS. — " If thou should'st find this little tomb, 

Beware to speak a hasty doom."] 

2 [MS. — " He hardest press'd the Scottish ring ; 

'Twas thought that he struck down the King."] 



canto VI.] THE BATTLE. 279 

To whom it must in terms be said, 

That King and kinsmen did agree, 

To bless fair Clara's constancy ; 

Who cannot, unless I relate, 

Paint to her mind the bridal's state ; 

That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke, 

More, Sands, and Denny, pass'd the joke : 

That bluff King Hal the curtain drew, 

And Catherine's hand the stocking threw ; 

And afterwards, for many a day, 

That it was held enough to say, 

In blessing to a wedded pair, 

" Love they like Wilton and like Clare ! " 



TO THE READER. 

Why then a final note prolong, 

Or lengthen out a closing song, 

Unless to bid the gentles speed, 

Who long have listed to my rede ? l 

To Statesmen grave, if such may deign 

To read the Minstrel's idle strain, 

Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, 

And patriotic heart — as Pitt ! 

A garland for the hero's crest, 

And twined by her he loves the best ; 

To every lovely lady bright, 

What can I wish but faithful knight? 

To every faithful lover too, 

What can I wish but lady true ? 

And knowledge to the studious sage ; 

1 Used generally for tale or discourse. 



280 M ARM I ON. [canto vi.] 

And pillow to the head of age. 

To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay 

Has cheated of thy hour of play, 

Light task, and merry holiday ! 

To all, to each, a fair good-night, 

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light ! x 

i ["We have dwelt longer on the beauties and defects of this poem, than r 
we are afraid, will be agreeable either to the partial or the indifferent ; not only 
because we look upon it as a misapplication, in some degree, of very extraor- 
dinary talents, but because we cannot help considering it as the foundation of a 
new school, which may hereafter occasion no little annoyance both to us and to 
the public. Mr. Scott has hitherto filled the whole stage himself, and the very 
splendor of his success has probably operated as yet, rather to deter, than to 
encourage, the herd of rivals and imitators ; but if, by the help of the good parts 
of his poem, he succeeds in suborning the verdict of the public in favor of the 
bad parts also, and establishes an indiscriminate taste for chivalrous legends 
and romances in irregular rhyme, he may depend upon having as many copy- 
ists as Mrs. Radcliffe or Schiller, and upon becoming the founder of a new 
schism in the catholic poetical church, for which, in spite of all our exertions, 
there will probably be no cure, but in the extravagance of the last and lowest 
of its followers. It is for this reason that we conceive it to be our duty to make 
one strong effort to bring back the great apostle of the heresy to the wholesome 
creed of his instructors, and to stop the insurrection before it becomes desper- 
ate and senseless, by persuading the leader to return to his duty and allegiance. 
We admire Air. Scott's genius as much as any of those who may be misled by 
its perversion ; and, like the curate and the barber in Don Quixote, lament the 
day when a gentleman of such endowments was corrupted by the wicked tales 
of knight-errantry and enchantment." — JEFFREY.] 

[" We do not flatter ourselves that Mr. Scott will pay to our advice that 
attention which he has refused to his acute friend Mr. Erskine ; but it is possi- 
ble, that his own good sense may in time persuade him not to abandon his 
loved fairy ground (a province over which we wish him a long and prosperous 
government), but to combine the charms of lawful poetry with those of wild 
and romantic fiction. As the first step to this desirable end, we would beg him 
to reflect that his Gothic models will not bear him out in transferring the loose 
and shuffling ballad metre to a poem of considerable length, and of compli- 
cated interest like the present. It is a very easy thing to write five hundred 
ballad verses, stans pede in uno: but Mr. Scott needs not to be told that five 
hundred verses written on one foot have a very poor chance for immortality." 
— Monthly Review.] 



APPENDIX. 



Note A. 

As when the Champion of the Lake 

Enters Morgana 's fated house, 

Or in the Chapel Perilous, 

Despising spells and demons' force, 

Holds converse with the unburied corse. — P. 27. 

The Romance of the Morte Arthur contains a sort of abridgment of the 
most celebrated adventures of the Round Table ; and, being written in 
comparatively modern language, gives the general reader an excellent idea 
of what romances of chivalry actually were. It has also the merit of being 
written in pure old English; and many of the wild adventures which it con 
tains are told with a simplicity bordering upon the sublime. Several of 
these are referred to in the text; and I would have illustrated them by 
more full extracts, but as this curious work is about to be republished, I 
confine myself to the tale of the Chapel Perilous, and of the quest of Sir 
Launcelot after the Sangreal. 

" Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came to the Chapell 
Perilous, he alighted downe, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as 
soon as he was within the churchyard, he saw, on the front of the chapell, 
many faire rich shields turned upside downe; and many of the shields Sir 
Launcelot had seene knights have before; with that he saw stand by him 
thirtie great knights, more, by a yard, than any man that ever he had seene, 
and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot; and when he saw 
their countenance, hee dread them sore, and so put his shield afore him, 
and tooke his sword in his hand, ready to doe battaile ; and they were all 
armed in black harneis, ready, with their shields and swords drawen. And 
when Sir Launcelot would have gone through them, they scattered on 
every side of him, and gave him the way; and therewith he waxed all 
bold, and entered into the chapell, and then hee saw no light but a dimme 



282 APPENDIX. 



lampe burning, and then was he ware of a corps covered with a cloath of 
silke; then Sir Launcelot stooped downe, and cut a piece of that cloath 
away, and then it fared under him as the earth had quaked a little, whereof 
he was afeard, and then hee saw a faire sword lye by the dead knight, and 
that he gat in his hand, and hied him out of the chappell. As soon as he 
was in the chappell-yerd, all the knights spoke to him with a grimly voice, 
and said, ' Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay that sword from thee, or else thou 
shalt die.' — ' Whether I live or die,' said Sir Launcelot, ' with no great 
words get yee it againe, therefore fight for it and yee list.' Therewith he 
passed through them; and, beyond the chappell-yerd, there met him a 
faire damosell, and said, ' Sir Launcelot, leave that sword behind thee, or 
thou wilt die for it.' — ' I will not leave it,' said Sir Launcelot, ' for no 
threats.' — ' No? ' said she; ' and ye did leave that sword, Queen Guene- 
ver should ye never see.' — ' Then were I a foole and I would leave this 
sword,' said Sir Launcelot. ' Now, gentle knight,' said the damosell, ' I 
require thee to kisse me once.' — ' Nay,' said Sir Launcelot, ' that God for- 
bid ! ' — ' Well, sir,' said she, ' and thou haddest kissed me thy life dayes 
had been done; but now, alas ! ' said she, ' I have lost all my labour; for 
I ordeined this chappell for thy sake, and for Sir Gawaine : and once I 
had Sir Gawaine within it; and at that time he fought with that knight 
which there lieth dead in yonder chappell, Sir Gilbert the bastard, and that 
time hee smote off Sir Gilbert the bastard's left hand. And so, Sir Launce- 
lot, now I tell thee, that I have loved thee this seaven yeare ; but there 
may no woman have thy love but Queene Guenever; but sithen I may not 
rejoyice thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no more joy in this world 
but to have had thy dead body; and I would have balmed it and served, 
and so have kept it in my life daies, and daily I should have clipped thee, 
and kissed thee, in the despite of Queen Guenever.' — 'Yee say well,' said 
Sir Launcelot; 'Jesus preserve me from your subtill craft.' And therewith 
he took his horse and departed from her." 

Note B. 

A sinful man, and unconfess\l, 
He took the SangreaVs holy quest, 
And, slumbering, saw the vision high, 
He might not view with waking eye. — P. 27. 

One day, when Arthur was holding a high feast with his Knights of the 
Round Table, the Sangreal, or vessel out of which the last passover was 



MARMION. 



283 



eaten (a precious relic, which had long remained concealed from human 
eyes, because of the sins of the land), suddenly appeared to him and all 
his chivalry. The consequence of this vision was, that all the knights took 
on them a solemn vow to seek the Sangreal. But, alas ! it could only be 
revealed to a knight at once accomplished in earthly chivalry, and pure 
and guiltless of evil conversation. All Sir Launcelot's noble accomplish- 
ments were therefore rendered vain by his guilty intrigue with Queen 
Guenever, or Ganore; and in his holy quest he encountered only such dis- 
graceful disasters as that which follows : — 

" But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and 
held no path, but as wild adventure led him; and at the last, he came unto 
a stone crosse, which departed two wayes, in wast land ; and, by the 
crosse, was a stone that was of marble ; but it was so dark, that Sir Laun- 
celot might not well know what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by 
him, and saw an old chappell, and there he wend to have found people. 
And so Sir Launcelot tied his horse to a tree, and there he put off his 
shield, and hung it upon a tree, and then hee went unto the chappell 
doore, and found it wasted and broken. And within he found a faire altar 
full richly arrayed with cloth of silk, and there stood a faire candlestick, 
which beare six great candles, and the candlesticke was of silver. And 
when Sir Launcelot saw this light, hee had a great will for to enter into 
the chappell, but he could find no place where hee might enter. Then 
was he passing heavie and dismaied. Then he returned, and came againe 
to his horse, and tooke off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture, 
and unlaced his helme, and ungirded his sword, and laid him downe to 
sleepe upon his shield, before the crosse. 

"And so hee fell on sleepe; and, halfe waking and halfe sleeping, hee 
saw come by him two palfreys, both faire and white, the which beare a 
litter, therein lying a sicke knight. And when he was nigh the crosse, he 
there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for hee slept not 
verily, and hee heard him say, 'O sweete Lord, when shall this sorrow 
leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me, where through I 
shall be blessed, for I have endured thus long for little trespasse ! ' And 
thus a great while complained the knight, and allwaies Sir Launcelot 
heard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlesticke, with the fire 
tapers, come before the crosse; but he could see no body that brought it. 
Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessell of the Sancgreall, 
the which Sir Launcelot had seen before that time in King Petchour's 
house. And therewithall the sicke knight set him upright, and held up 
both his hands, and said, ' Faire sweete Lord, which is here within the 



284 APPENDIX. 



holy vessell, take heede to mee, that I may bee hole of this great malady ! r 
And therewith upon his hands, and upon his knees, he went so nigh, that 
he touched, the holy vessell, and kissed it : And anon he was hole, and 
then he said, ■ Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this malady.' 
Soo when the holy vessell had been there a great while, it went into the 
chappell againe, with the candlesticke and the light, so that Sir Launcelot 
wist not where it became, for he was overtaken with sinne, that hee had no 
power to arise against the holy vessell, wherefore afterward many men said 
of him shame. But he tooke repentance afterward. Then the sicke 
knight dressed him upright, and kissed the crosse. Then anon his squire 
brought him his armes, and asked his lord how he did. ' Certainly,' said 
hee, ' I thanke God right heartily, for through the holy vessell I am healed : 
But I have right great mervaile of this sleeping knight, which hath had 
neither grace nor power to awake during the time that this holy vessell 
hath beene here present.' — ' I dare it right well say,' said the squire, ' that 
this same knight is defouled with some manner of deadly sinne, whereof 
he has never confessed.' — 'By my faith,' said the knight, 'whatsoever he 
be, he is unhappie; for, as I deeme, hee is of the fellowship of the Round 
Table, the which is entred into the quest of the Sancgreall.' — ' Sir,' said 
the squire, ' here I have brought you all your armes, save your helme and 
your sword; and, therefore, by mine assent, now may ye take this knight's 
helme and his sword ' ; and so he did. And when he was cleane armed, 
he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his owne, and so they 
departed from the crosse. 

" Then anon Sir Launcelot awaked, and set himselfe upright, and he 
thought him what hee had there seene, and whether it were dreames or 
not; right so he heard a voice that said, ' Sir Launcelot, more hardy than 
is the stone, and more bitter than is the wood, and more naked and bare 
than is the liefe of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and with- 
draw thee from this holy place'; and when Sir Launcelot heard this, he 
was passing heavy, and wist not what to doe. And so he departed sore 
weeping, and cursed the time that he was borne; for then he deemed 
never to have had more worship; for the words went unto his heart, till 
that he knew wherefore that hee was so called." 



MARMION. 



285 



Note C. 

Day set on Norham's castled steep, 

And Tweed' 's fair river, broad and aeep, &c. — P. 32. 

The ruinous castle of Norham (anciently called Ubbanforcl) is situated 
on the southern bank of the Tweed, about six miles above Berwick, and 
where that river is still the boundary between England and Scotland. The 
extent of its ruins, as well as its historical importance, shows it to have 
been a place of magnificence, as well as strength. Edward I. resided there 
when he was created umpire of the dispute concerning the Scottish succes- 
sion. It was repeatedly taken and retaken during the wars between Eng- 
land and Scotland; and, indeed, scarce any happened, in which it had not 
a principal share. Norham Castle is situated on a steep bank which over- 
hangs the river. The repeated sieges which the castle had sustained ren- 
dered frequent repairs necessary. In 1164, it was almost rebuilt by Hugh 
Pudsey, Bishop of Durham, who added a huge keep, or donjon; notwith- 
standing which, King Henry II., in 11 74, took the castle from the bishop, 
and committed the keeping of it to William de Neville. After this period 
it seems to have been chiefly garrisoned by the King, and considered as a 
royal fortress. The Greys of Chillingham Castle were frequently the cas- 
tellans, or captains of the garrison : Yet, as the castle was situated in the 
patrimony of St. Cuthbert, the property was in the see of Durham till 
the Reformation. After that period, it passed through various hands. At 
the union of the crowns, it was in the possession of Sir Robert Carey (af- 
terwards Earl of Monmouth), for his own life, and that of two of his sons. 
After King James's accession, Carey sold Norham Castle to George Home, 
Earl of Dunbar, for 6000/. See his curious Memoirs, published by Mr. 
Constable of Edinburgh. 

According to Mr. Pinkerton, there is, in the British Museum, Cal. B. 6. 
216, a curious memoir of the Dacres on the state of Norham Castle in 
1522, not long after the battle of Flodden. The inner ward, or keep, is 
represented as impregnable: — "The provisions are three great vats of 
salt eels, forty-four kine, three hogsheads of salted salmon, forty quarters 
of grain, besides many cows and four hundred sheep, lying under the 
castle-wall nightly; but a number of the arrows wanted feathers, and a 
good Fletcher [i.e. maker of arrows] was required." — History of Scotland, 
vol. ii., p. 201, note. 



286 APPEND rx. 



The ruins of the castle are at present considerable, as well as pictur- 
esque. They consist of a large shattered tower, with many vaults, and 
fragments of other edifices, enclosed within an outward wall of great circuit. 



Note D. 

They haiPd Lord Mar mi on : 
They haiVd him Lord of Fontenay e, 
Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye, 

Of Tamworth tower and town. — P. 39. 

Lord Marmion, the principal character of the present romance, is en- 
tirely a fictitious personage. In earlier times, indeed, the family of Mar- 
mion, Lords of Fontenay, in Normandy, was highly distinguished. Robert 
de Marmion, Lord of Fontenay, a distinguished follower of the Conqueror,, 
obtained a grant of the castle and town of Tamworth, and also of the 
manor of Scrivelby, in Lincolnshire. One, or both, of these noble posses- 
sions, was held by the honorable service of being the royal champion, as 
the ancestors of Marmion had formerly been to the Dukes of Normandy. 
But after the castle and demesne of Tamworth had passed through four 
successive barons from Robert, the family became extinct in the person of 
Philip de Marmion. who died in 20th Edward I. without issue male. He 
was succeeded in his castle of Tamworth by Alexander de Freville, who 
married Mazera, his grand-daughter. Baldwin de Freville, Alexander's 
descendant, in the reign of Richard I., by the supposed tenure of his castle 
of Tamworth, claimed the office of royal champion, and to do the service 
appertaining, namely, on the day of coronation, to ride, completely armed, 
upon a barbed horse, into Westminster Hall, and there to challenge the 
combat against any who would gainsay the King's title. But this office 
was adjudged to Sir John Dymoke, to whom the manor of Scrivelby had 
descended by another of the co-heiresses of Robert de Marmion; and it 
remains in that family, whose representative is Hereditary Champion of 
England at the present day. The family and possessions of Freville have 
merged in the Earls of Ferrars. I have not, therefore, created a new fam- 
ily, but only revived the titles of an old one in an imaginary personage. 

It was one of the Marmion family, who, in the reign of Edward II., per- 
formed that chivalrous feat before the very castle of Norham, which Bishop 
Percy has woven into his beautiful ballad, " The Hermit of Warkworth.'*' 
The story is thus told by Leland : — 



MARMION. 287 



"The Scottes came yn to the marches of England, and destroyed the 
castles of Werk and Herbotel, and overran much of Northumberland 
marches. 

" At this tyme, Thomas Gray and his friendes defended Norham from 
the Scottes. 

" It were a wonderful processe to declare, what mischefes cam by hungre 
and asseges by the space of xi. yeres in Northumberland; for the Scottes 
became so proude after they had got Berwick, that they nothing esteemed 
the Englishmen. 

" About this tyme there was a greate feste made yn Lincolnshir, to which 
came many gentlemen and ladies; and amonge them one lady brought a 
heaulme for a man of were, with a very rich creste of gold, to William 
Marmion, knight, with a letter of commandement of her lady, that he 
should go into the daungerest place in England, and ther to let the 
heaulme be seene and known as famous. So he went to Norham; 
whither, within 4 days of cumming, cam Philip Moubray, guardian of Ber- 
wicke, having yn his bande 40 men of amies, the very flour of men of the 
Scottish marches. 

"Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge this, brought his garison 
afore the barriers of the castel, behind whom cam William, richly arrayed, 
as al glittering in gold, and wearing the heaulme, his lady's present. 

"Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, ' Sir Knight, ye be cum hither to 
fame your helmet : mount up on yowr horse, and ryde lyke a valiant man 
to yowr foes even here at hand, and I forsake God if I rescue not thy body 
deade or alyve, or I myself wyl dye for it.' 

" Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode among the throng of enne- 
myes; the which layed sore stripes on him, and pulled him at the last out 
of his sadel to the grounde. 

"Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, lette prick yn among 
the Scottes, and so wondid them and their horses, that they were over- 
throwan; and Marmion, sore beten, was horsid agayn, and, with Gray, 
persewed the Scottes yn chase. There were taken 50 horse of price; and 
the women of Norham brought them to the foote men to follow the chase." 



288 APPENDIX. 



Note F. 1 

The scenes are desert now, and bare, 
Where flourished once a forest fair. — P. 59. 

Ettrick Forest, now a range of mountainous sheep-walks, was anciently 
reserved for the pleasure of the royal chase. Since it was disparked, the 
wood has been, by degrees, almost totally destroyed, although, wherever 
protected from the sheep, copses soon arise without any planting. When 
the King hunted there, he often summoned the array of the country to 
meet and assist his sport. Thus, in 1528, James V. "made proclamation 
to all lords, barons, gentlemen, landward-men, and freeholders, that they 
should compear at Edinburgh, with a month's victuals, to pass with the 
King where he pleased, to danton the thieves of Tiviotdale, Annandale, 
Liddisdale, and other parts of that country; and also warned all gentlemen 
that had good dogs to bring them, that he might hunt in the said country 
as he pleased : The whilk the Earl of Argyle, the Earl of Huntley, the 
Earl of Athole, and so all the rest of the gentlemen of the Highland, did, 
and brought their hounds with them in like manner, to hunt with the King, 
as he pleased. 

" The second day of June the King passed out of Edinburgh to the 
hunting, with many of the nobles and gentlemen of Scotland with him, to 
the number of twelve thousand men; and then past to Meggitland, and 
hounded and hawked all the country and bounds; that is to say, Crammat, 
Pappert-law, St. Mary-laws, Carlavirick, Chapel, Ewindoores, and Long- 
hope. I heard say, he slew, in these bounds, eighteen score of harts." 2 

These huntings had, of course, a military character, and attendance upon 
them was a part of the duty of a vassal. The act for abolishing ward or 
military tenures in Scotland, enumerates the services of hunting, hosting, 
watching, and warding, as those which were in future to be illegal. 

Taylor, the water-poet, has given an account of the mode in which these 
huntings were conducted in the Highlands of Scotland in the seventeenth 
century, having been present at Brxmar upon such an occasion : — 

" There did I find the truly noble and right honourable lords, John Ers- 
kine, Earl of Mar; James Stewart, Earl of Murray; George Gordon, Earl 

1 As the ballad given in the Notes to the former editions of Marmion is to be found in 
the Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii., it is thought unnecessary in this collected edition, to 
repeat it, as intended, under the head of Note E. (See page 42 of the poem.) 

2 Pitscottie's History of Scotland, folio edition, p. 143. 



M ARM ION. 289 



of Engye, son and heir to the Marquis of Huntley; James Erskine, Earl 
of Buchan; and John, Lord Erskine, son and heir to the Earl of Mar, and 
their Countesses, with my much honoured, and my last assured and ap- 
proved frtend, Sir William Murray, knight of Abercarney, and hundreds of 
others, knights, esquires, and their followers ; all and every man, in gen- 
eral, in one habit, as if Lycurgus had been there, and made laws of equal- 
ity; for once in the year, which is the whole month of August, and 
sometimes part of September, many of the nobility and gentry of the 
kingdom (for their pleasure) do come into these Highland countries to 
hunt; where they do conform themselves to the habit of the Highlandmen, 
who, for the most part, speak nothing but Irish; and, in former time, were 
those people which were called the Red-shanks. Their habit is — shoes, 
with but one sole a-piece; stockings (which they call short hose), made of 
a warm stuff of diverse colours, which they call tartan; as for breeches, 
many of them, nor their forefathers, never wore any, but a jerkin of the 
same stuff that their hose is of; their garters being bands or wreaths of hay 
or straw; with a plaid about their shoulders; which is a mantle of diverse 
colours, much finer and lighter stuff than their hose ; with blue flat caps on 
their heads; a handkerchief, knit with two knots, about their necks: and 
thus they are attired. Now, their weapons are — long bowes and forked 
arrows, swords, and targets, harquebusses, muskets, durks, and Lochaber 
axes. With these arms I found many of them armed for the hunting. As 
for their attire, any man, of what degree soever, that comes amongst them, 
must not disdain to wear it; for if they do, then they will disdain to hunt, 
or willingly to bring in their dogs ; but if men be kind unto them, and be 
in their habit, then are they conquered with kindness, and the sport will 
be plentiful. This was the reason that I found so many noblemen and 
gentlemen in those shapes. But to proceed to the hunting : — 

" My good Lord of Mar having put me into that shape, I rode with him 
from his house, where I saw the ruins of an old castle, called the castle 
of Kindroghit. It was built by King Malcolm Canmore (for a hunting- 
house), who reigned in Scotland, when Edward the Confessor, Harold, 
and Norman William, reigned in England. I speak of it, because it was 
the last house I saw in those parts; for I was the space of twelve days af- 
ter, before I saw either house, corn-field, or habitation for any creature, 
but deer, wild-horses, wolves, and such like creatures, — which made me 
doubt that I should never have seen a house again. 

" Thus, the first day, we travelled eight miles, where there were small 
cottages, built on purpose to lodge in, which they call Lonquhards. I 
thank my good Lord Erskine, he commanded that I should always be 



290 



APPENDIX. 



lodged in his lodging : the kitchen being always on the side of a bank : 
many kettles and pots boiling, and many spits turning and winding, with 
great variety of cheer, — as venison baked; sodden, roast, and stewed 
beef; mutton, goats, kid, hares, fresh salmon, pigeons, hens, capons, chick- 
ens, partridges, muircoots, heath cocks, caperkellies, and termagants; good 
ale, sacke, white and claret, tent (or allegant), with most potent aquavitce. 
"All these, and more than these, we had continually in superfluous 
abundance, caught by falconers, fowlers, fishers, and brought by my lord's 
tenants and purveyors to victual our camp, which consisteth of fourteen or 
fifteen hundred men and horses. The manner of the hunting is this : Five 
or six hundred men do rise early in the morning, and they do disperse 
themselves divers ways, and seven, eight, or ten miles compass do they 
bring, or chase in, the deer in many herds (two, three, or four hundred in 
a herd), to such or such a place, as the noblemen shall appoint them; 
then, when day is come, the lords and gentlemen of their companies do 
ride or go to the said places, sometimes wading up to the middles, through 
burns and rivers; and then, they being come to the place, do lie down on 
the ground, till those foresaid scouts, which are called the Tinkhell, do 
bring down the deer; but, as the proverb says of a bad cook, so these 
tinkhell men do lick their own fingers; for, besides their bows and arrows, 
which they carry with them, we can hear, now and then, a harquebuss or a 
musket go off, which they do seldom discharge in vain. Then after we 
had staid there three hours, or thereabouts, we might perceive the deer 
appear on the hills round about us (their heads making a show like a 
wood), which being followed close by the tinkhell, are chased down into 
the valley where we lay; then all the valley, on each side, being way-laid 
with a hundred couple of strong Irish greyhounds, they are all let loose, 
as occasion serves, upon the herd of deer, that with dogs, guns, arrows, 
durks, and daggers, in the .space of two hours, fourscore fat deer were 
slain; which after are disposed of, some one way, and some another, 
twenty and thirty miles, and more than enough left for us, to make merry 
withall, at our rendezvous." 

Note G. 

Then Whitby' 's nuns exulting told, 
Hoiv to their house three Barons bold 
Must menial service do. — P. 78. 

The popular account of this curious service, which was probably consid- 
erably exaggerated, is thus given in " A True Account," printed and cir- 



MARMION. 29 1 



ciliated at Whitby : " In the fifth year of the reign of Henry II., after the 
conquest of England by William, Duke of Normandy, the Lord of Ugle- 
barnby, then called William de Bruce; the Lord of Smeaton, called Ralph 
de Percy; with a gentleman and freeholder called Allatson, did, on the 
16th of October, 1 159, appoint to meet and hunt the wild-boar, in a cer- 
tain wood, or desert place, belonging to the Abbot of Whitby : the place's 
name was Eskdale-side; and the abbot's name was Sedman. Then, these 
young gentlemen being met, with their hounds, and boar-staves, in the 
place before mentioned, and there having found a great wild-boar, the 
hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale-side, 
where was a monk of Whitby, who was an hermit. The boar, being very 
sorely pursued, and dead-run, took in at the chapel-door, there laid him 
down, and presently died. The hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, 
and kept himself within at his meditations and prayers, the hounds stand- 
ing at bay without. The gentlemen, in the thick of the wood, being just 
behind their game, followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the 
hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opened the door, and came forth; 
and within they found the boar lying dead: for which, the gentlemen, in a 
very great fury, because the hounds were put from their game, did most 
violently and cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he 
soon after died. Thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and knowing that 
they were in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough : But at that 
time the .abbot being in very great favor with the King, removed them 
out of the sanctuary; whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to 
be privileged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was death 
for death. But the hermit, being a holy and devout man, and at the point 
of death, sent for the abbot, and desired him to send for the gentlemen 
who had wounded him. The abbot so doing, the gentlemen came ; and 
the hermit, being very sick and weak, said unto them, ' I am sure to die of 
those wounds you have given me.' — The abbot answered, 'They shall as 
surely die for the same.' — But the hermit answered, ' Not so, for I will 
freely forgive them my death, if they will be content to be enjoined the 
penance I shall lay on them for the safeguard of their souls.' The gentle- 
men being present, bade him save their lives. Then said the hermit, ' You 
and yours shall hold your lands of the abbot of Whitby, and his successors, 
in this manner : That, upon Ascension-day, you, or some of you, shall 
come to the wood of the Stray-heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same 
day at sun-rising, and there shall the abbot's officer blow his horn, to the 
intent that you may know where to find him; and he shall deliver unto 
you, William de Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strout stowers, and eleven yeth- 



292 



APPENDIX. 



ers, to be cut by you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny price; 
and you, Ralph de Percy, shall take twenty-one of each sort, to be cut in 
the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of each sort, to be 
cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your backs and carried to the town of 
Whitby, and to be there before nine of the clock the same day before men- 
tioned. At the same hour of nine of the clock, if it be full sea, your la- 
bor and service shall cease; and if low water, each of you shall set your 
stakes to the brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so yether them 
on each side with your yethers; and so stake on each side with your strout 
stowers, that they may stand three tides, without removing by the force 
thereof. Each of you shall do, make, and execute the said service, at that 
very hour, every year, except it be full sea at that hour; but when it shall 
so fall out, this service shall cease. You shall faithfully do this, in remem- 
brance that you did most cruelly slay me; and that you may the better call 
to God for mercy, repent unfeignedly of your sins, and do good works. 
The officer of Eskdale-side shall blow, Out on you ! Out on you ! Out on 
you ! for this heinous crime. If you or your successors, shall refuse this 
service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or 
yours shall forfeit your lands to the abbot of Whitby, or his successors. 
This I entreat, and earnestly beg, that you may have lives and goods pre- 
served for this service; and I request of you to promise, by your parts in 
Heaven, that it shall be done by you. and your successors, as is aforesaid 
requested; and I will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.' — Then 
the hermit said, ' My soul longeth for the Lord : and I do as freely forgive 
these men my death, as Christ forgave the thieves on the cross/ And, in 
the presence of the abbot and the rest, he said moreover these words : ' In 
manus iuos Domine, commendo spiritual meum, a vinculis enim mortis 
redemisti me, Domine veritatis. Anien? — So he yielded up the ghost the 
eighth day of December, anno Domini 11 59, whose soul God have mercy 
upon. Amen. 

"This service," it is added, "still continues to be performed with the 
prescribed ceremonies, though not by the proprietors in person. Part of 
the lands charged therewith are now held by a gentleman of the name of 
Herbert." 



MARMION. 



293 



Note H. 

Yet still the knightly spear and shield 
The Elfin Warrior doth wield 

Upon the brown hilPs breast. — P. 129. 

The following extract from the Essay upon the Fairy Superstitions, in 
the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," vol. ii., will show whence many 
of the particulars of the combat between Alexander III. and the Goblin 
Knight are derived : — 

Gervase of Tilbury (Olia Imperial, ap. Script, rer. Bnmsvic, vol. i., 
p. 797) relates the following popular story concerning a fairy knight : 
" Osbert, a bold and powerful baron, visited a noble family in the vicinity 
of Wandlebury, in the bishopric of Ely. Among other stories related in 
the social circle of his friends, who, according to custom, amused each 
other by repeating ancient tales and traditions, he was informed that if 
any knight, unattended, entered an adjacent plain by moonlight, and chal- 
lenged an adversary to appear, he would be immediately encountered by a 
spirit in the form of a knight. Osbert resolved to make the experiment, 
and set out, attended by a single squire, whom he ordered to remain 
without the limits of the plain, which was surrounded by an ancient 
intrenchment. On repeating the challenge, he was instantly assailed by 
an adversary, whom he quickly unhorsed, and seized the reins of his steed. 
During this operation, his ghostly opponent sprung up, and darting his 
spear, like a javelin, at Osbert, wounded him in the thigh. Osbert returned 
in triumph with the horse, which he committed to the care of his servant. 
The horse was of a sable color, as well as his whole accoutrements, and 
apparently of great beauty and vigor. He remained with his keeper till 
cock-crowing, when, with eyes flashing fire, he reared, spurned the ground, 
and vanished. On disarming himself, Osbert perceived that he was 
wounded, and that one of his steel boots was full of blood." Gervase adds 
that, "as long as he lived, the scar of his wound opened afresh on the 
anniversary of the eve on which he encountered the spirit." Less fortunate 
was the gallant Bohemian knight who, travelling by night with a single 
companion, " came in sight of a fairy host, arrayed under displayed ban- 
ners. Despising the remonstrances of his friend, the knight pricked for- 
ward to break a lance with a champion, who advanced from the ranks 
apparently in defiance. His companion beheld the Bohemian overthrown, 
horse and man, by his aerial adversary; and returning to the spot next 



294 



APPENDIX. 



morning, he found the mangled corpse of the knight and steed." — 
Hierarchy of Blessed Angels, p. 554. 

Besides these instances of Elfin chivalry above quoted, many others 
might be alleged in support of employing fairy machinery in this manner. 
The forest of Glenmore, in the North Highlands, is believed to be haunted 
by a spirit called Lham-dearg, in the array of an ancient warrior, having a 
bloody hand, from which he takes his name. He insists upon those with 
whom he meets doing battle with him; and the clergyman, who makes up 
an account of the district, extant in the Macfarlane MS., in the Advocates' 
Library, gravely assures us, that, in his time, Lham-dearg fought with three 
brothers whom he met in his walk, none of whom long survived the 
ghostly conflict. Barclay, in his " Euphormion," gives a singular account 
of an officer who had ventured, with his servant, rather to intrude upon a 
haunted house, in a town in Flanders, than to put up with worse quarters 
elsewhere. After taking the usual precautions of providing fires, lights, 
and arms, they watched till midnight, when behold ! the severed arm of a 
man dropped from the ceiling; this was followed by the legs, the other 
arm, the trunk, and the head of the body, all separately. The members 
rolled together, united themselves in the presence of the astonished 
soldiers, and formed a gigantic warrior, who defied them both to combat. 
Their blows, although they penetrated the body, and amputated the limbs, 
of their strange antagonist, had, as the reader may easily believe, little 
effect on an enemy who possessed such powers of self-union ; nor did his 
efforts make more effectual impression upon them. How the combat ter- 
minated I do not exactly remember, and have not the book by me; but I 
think the spirit made to the intruders on his mansion the usual proposal, 
that they should renounce their redemption; which being declined, he 
was obliged to retreat. 

The most singular tale of the kind is contained in an extract communi- 
cated to me by my friend Mr. Surtees of Mainsforth, in the Bishopric, who 
copied it from a MS. note in a copy of Burthogge " On the Nature of 
Spirits," 8vo., 1694, which had been the property of the late Mr. Gill, 
attorney-general to Egerton, Bishop of Durham. " It was not," says my 
obliging correspondent, " in Mr. Gill's own hand, but probably an hundred 
years older, and was said to be, E libro Convent. Dunelm. per T. C. ex- 
tract., whom I believe to have been Thomas Cradocke, Esq., barrister, 
who held several offices under the See of Durham a hundred years ago. 
Mr. Gill was possessed of most of his manuscripts." The extract, which, 
in fact, suggested the introduction of the tale into the present poem, runs 
thus : — 



MARMION. 



295 



"Rem miram hujusmodi qua nostris temporibus evenit, teste viro nobill 
ac fide dignissimo, enarrare hand pigebit. Radiilphus Buhner, cum e 
caslriSy qua tunc temporis prope JVor/iam posita erant, oblectationis causa, 
exiisset, ac in ultcriore Tzicdcc ripd preedam cum canibus leporariis 
insequcretur, forte cum Scoto quodam nobili, sibi antehac, itt videbatur, 
familiariter cognito, congresstis est; ac tit fas crat inter inimicos, 
flagrante bello, brcvissimd interrogationis mora intcrpositd, altcrutros 
inviccm incitaio cursu infestis animis peticre. Nostcr, primo occursu, 
equo prccacerrimo hostis impetu labante, in terrain cversus pectore ct 
capitc Lcso, sanguinem, mortuo similis, evomebat. Quern ut se ccgre 
Jiabe;itc7Ji comitcr allocutus est alter, pollicitusque, modo auxilium non 
abnegaret, monitisque obtempcrans ab omni rcrum sacrarum cogitatione 
absiincrct, ncc Deo, Deiparcc Virgi7ii, Sanctove ullo, prcces aul vota 
ejferret vel inter sese conciperet, se brevi eum samim validumque rcslitu- 
turzim esse. Prce angore oblata conditio accepta est ; ac veterator ille 
ncscio quid obscccni mui'muris iususurrans, preliensa manu, dido citius 
in pedes sanum tit antea sublevavit. Noster autem, maxima prce rei 
inatiditd novitate formidine perculsus, Ml Jesu ! exclamat, vel quid 
simile ; ac subito rcspiciens nee hostcm nee tillum alitim conspicit, equum 
solum gravissimo nupcr casu afjlictum, per snmmam pacem in rivo fluvii 
pascentem. Ad castra itaque mirabundus revertens, fidei dubius, rem 
primo occtdla-jit, dcin, confecto bello, Confessori suo totam asseruit. Dclu- 
soria procul dubio res tola, ac mala veteratoris illius aperitur fraus, qua 
homincm Chrislianum ad vetitum tale auxillium pelliceret. JVomen 
ntcunque illius {jiobilis alias ac clari) reticendum duco, cum hand 
dubium sit qziin Diabolus, Deo pertuitlente, formatn quam libitcrit, immo 
angeli lucis, sacro oculo Dei teste, posse assumere.'''' The MS. chronicle 
from which Mr. Cradocke took this curious extract cannot now be found 
in the Chapter Library of Durham, or, at least, has hitherto escaped the 
researches of my friendly correspondent. 

Lindesay is made to- allude to this adventure of Ralph Buhner, as a 
well-known story, in the 4th Canto, Stanza xxii., p. 163. 

The northern champions of old were accustomed peculiarly to search 
for, and delight in, encounters with such military spectres. See a whole 
chapter on the subject, in Bartholinus De Causis contemptcc Mortis a 
Danis, p. 253. 



296 



APPENDIX. 



Note I. 

Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, 
Lord Lion King-at-arms. — P. 150. 

The late elaborate edition of Sir David Lindesay's Works by Mr. George 
Chalmers, has probably introduced him to many of my readers. It is per- 
haps to be regretted that the learned editor had not bestowed more pains 
in elucidating his author, even although he should have omitted, or at 
least reserved his disquisitions on the origin of the language used by the 
poets. 1 But, with all its faults, his work is an acceptable present to 
Scottish antiquaries. Sir David Lindesay was well known for his early 
efforts in favor of the Reformed doctrines; and, indeed, his play, coarse as 
it now seems, must have had a powerful effect upon the people of his age. 
I am uncertain if I abuse poetical license, by introducing Sir David Linde- 
say in the character of Lion-Herald, sixteen years before he obtained that 
office. At any rate, I am not the first who has been guilty of the anachro- 
nism; for the author of " Flodden Field" despatches Dellamount, which 
can mean nobody but Sir David de la Mont, to France, on the message of 
defiance from James IV. to Henry VIII. It was often an office imposed 
on the Lion-King-at-arms, to receive foreign ambassadors; and Lindesay 
himself did this honor to Sir Ralph Sadler, in 1539-40. Indeed, the oath 

1 I beg leave to quote a single instance from a very interesting passage. Sir David, 
recounting his attention to King James V. in his infancy, is made, by the learned editor's 
punctuation, to say, — 

" The first sillabis that thou did mute, 
Was pa, da, lyn, upon the lute; 
Then played I twenty springis perqueir, 
Quhilk was great plesour for to hear." 

Vol. i., p. 7, 257. 
Mr. Chalmers does not inform us, by note or glossary, what is meant by the King 
" muting pa, da, lyn, upon the lute " : but any old woman in Scotland will bear witness, 
that pa, da, lyn, are the first efforts of a child to say, " Whare's David Lindesay ?" * 
and that the subsequent words begin another sentence — 
"Upon the lute 
Then played I twenty springis perqueir," &c. 
In another place, "justing lumis," i.e. looms, or implements of tilting, is facetiously in- 
terpreted " playful limbs." Many such minute errors could be pointed out; but these are 
only mentioned incidentally, and not as diminishing the real merit of the edition. 

* [It is suggested by an ingenious correspondent, that Pa, da, lyn, ought rather to be 
interpreted, Play, Davy Lyudesay.] 



MARMTON. 297 



of the Lion, in its first article, bears reference to his frequent employment 
upon royal messages and embassies. 

The office of heralds, in feudal times, being held of the utmost importance, 
the inauguration of the Kings-at-arms, who presided over their colleges, 
was proportionally solemn. In fact, it was the mimicry of a royal corona- 
tion, except that the unction was made with wine instead of oil. In Scot- 
land, a namesake and kinsman of Sir David Lindesay, inaugurated in 1592, 
" was crowned by King James with the ancient crown of Scotland, which 
was used before the Scottish Kings assumed a close crown " ; and , on 
occasion of the same solemnity, dined at the King's table, wearing the 
crown. It is probable that the coronation of his predecessor was not less 
solemn. So sacred was the herald's office, that, in 15 15, Lord Drummond 
was by Parliament declared guilty of treason, and his lands forfeited, be- 
cause he had struck with his fist the Lion-King-at-arms, when he reproved 
him for his follies. 1 Nor was he restored, but at the Lion's earnest solici- 
tation. 

Note K. 

Crichtoun Castle. — P. 151. 

A large ruinous castle on the banks of the Tyne, about ten miles from 
Edinburgh. As indicated in the text, it was built at different times, and 
with a very different regard to splendor and accommodation. The oldest 
part of the building is a narrow keep, or tower, such as formed the man- 
sion of a lesser Scottish baron; but so many additions have been made to 
it, that there is now a large court-yard, surrounded by buildings of differ- 
ent ages. The eastern front of the court is raised above a portico, and 
decorated with entablatures, bearing anchors. All the stones of this front 
are cut into diamond facets, the angular projections of which have an 
uncommonly rich appearance. The inside of this part of the building 
appears to have contained a gallery of great length and uncommon ele- 
gance. Access was given to it by a magnificent stair-case, now quite 
destroyed. The soffits are ornamented with twining cordage and rosettes; 
and the whole seems to have been far more splendid than was usual in 
Scottish castles. The castle belonged originally to the Chancellor, Sir 
William Crichton, and probably owed to him its first enlargement, as well 
as its being taken by the Earl of Douglas, who imputed to Crichton's 

1 The record expresses, or rather is said to have expressed, the cause of forfeiture to 
be, — " Eo quod Leonem, armorum Regem pug-no violasset dnni cum dc incptiis vis 
admonet." See Nisbet's Heraldry, Part. iv. chap. xvi. ; and Lesl.ei Historia ad 
Anntcm 1515. 



298 APPENDIX. 



counsels the death of his predecessor, Earl William, beheaded in Edin- 
burgh Castle, with his brother, in 1440. It is said to have been totally 
demolished on that occasion; but the present state of the ruin shows the 
contrary. In 1483, it was garrisoned by Lord Crichton, then its proprie- 
tor, against King James III., whose displeasure he had incurred by seduc- 
ing his sister Margaret, in revenge, it is said, for the Monarch having 
dishonored his bed. From the Crichton family the castle passed to that of 
the Hepburns, Earls Bothwell; and when the forfeitures of Stewart, the 
last Earl Bothwell, were divided, the barony and castle of Crichton fell to 
the share of the Earl of Buccleuch. They were afterwards the property of 
the Pringles of Clifton, and are now that of Sir John Callander, Baronet. 
It were to be wished the proprietor would take a little pains to preserve 
these splendid remains of antiquity, which are at present used as a fold for 
sheep, and wintering cattle; although, perhaps, there are very few ruins in 
Scotland which display so well the style and beauty of ancient castle- 
architecture. The Castle of Crichton has a dungeon vault called the 
Massy More. The epithet, which is not uncommonly applied to the pris- 
ons of other old castles in Scotland, is of Saracenic origin. It occurs 
•twice in the " Epistolce Itinerarice^ of Tollius. "Career subterraneus, 
sive, ut Mauri appellant, Mazmorra," p. 147; and again, " Coguntur 
omnes Captivi sub noctem in ergastnla subterranea, quce Turca Algeze- 
rani vocant Mazmorras," p. 243. The same word applies to the dun- 
geons of the ancient Moorish castles in Spain, and serves to show from 
what nation the Gothic style of castle-building was originally derived. 1 



1 " In Scotland, formerly, as still in some parts of Greece, the great chieftains required, 
as an acknowledgment of their authority, that those who passed through their lands 
should repair to their castle, to explain the purpose of their journey, and receive the hos- 
pitality suited to their rank. To neglect this was held discourtesy in the great, and inso- 
lence in the inferior traveller; and so strictly was the etiquette insisted on by some feudal 
lords, that the Lord Oliphant is said to have planted guns at his castle of Newtyle in Angus, 
so as to command the high-road, and compell all restive passengers to do this act of 
homage. 

"It chanced, when such ideas were predominant, that the Lord of Crichton Castle re- 
ceived intelligence that a Southern chieftain of high rank, some say Scott of Buccleuch, 
was to pass his dwelling on his return from court. The Lord Crichton made great prepa- 
ration to banquet his expected guest, who, nevertheless, rode past the castle without pay- 
ing the expected visit. In his first burst of indignation, the Baron pursued the discourt- 
eous traveller with a body of horse, made him prisoner, and confined him in the dungeon, 
while he himself and his vassals feasted upon the good cheer which had been provided. 
With the morning, however, came reflection, and anxiety for the desperate feud which 
impended, as the necessary consequence of his rough proceeding. It is said, that, by 
way of amende honorable , the Baron, upon the second day, placed his compelled guest 



MARMION. 



299 



Note L. 

For that a messenger from heaven 
In -oain to James had counsel given, 
Against the English war. — P. 155. 

This story is told by Pitscottie with characteristic simplicity : — " The 
King, seeing that France could get no support of him for that time, made 
a proclamation, full hastily, through all the realm of Scotland, both cast 
and west, south and north, as well in the isles as in the firm land, to all 
manner of men between sixty and sixteen years, that they should be ready, 
within twenty days, to pass with him, with forty days victual, and to 
meet at the Burrowmuir of Edinburgh, and there to pass forward where 
he pleased. His proclamations were hastily obeyed, contrary to the Coun- 
cil of Scotland's will; but every man loved his prince so well, that they 
would on no ways disobey him; but every man caused make his proclama- 
tion so hastily, conform to the charge of the King's proclamation. 

"The King came to Lithgow, where he happened to be for the time at 
the Council, very sad and dolorous, making his devotion to God, to send 
him good chance and fortune in his voyage. In this meantime, there 
came a man, clad in a blue gown, in at the kirk door, and belted about 
him in a roll of linen-cloth; a pair of brotikings 1 on his feet, to the great 
of his legs; with all other hose and clothes conform thereto : but he had 
nothing on his head, but syde 2 red yellow hair behind, and on his haffets, 3 
which wan down to his shoulders; but his forehead was bald and bare. 
He seemed to be a man of two-and-fifty years, with a great pike-staff in 
his hand, and came first forward among the lords, crying and speiring 4 for 
the King, saying, he desired to speak with him. While, at the last, he 
came where the King was sitting in the desk at his prayers ; but when he 
saw the King, he made him little reverence or salutation, but leaned down 
groffling on the desk before him, and said to him in this manner, as after 
follows : — - ' Sir King, my mother has sent me to you, desiring you not to 
pass, at this time, where thou art purposed; for if thou docs, thou wilt not 
fare well in thy journey, nor none that passeth with thee. Further, she 
bade thee mell 5 with no woman, nor use their counsel, nor let them touch 

in his seat of honor in the hall, while he himself retired into his own dungeon, and thus 
did at once penance for his rashness, satisfied the honor cf the stranger chief, and put a 
stop to the feud which must otherwise have taken place between them." — Sir Waltck 
Scott's Provincial Antiatiilies, vol. i., pp. 25-6. 

1 Buskins. ~ Long. 3 Cheeks. 4 Asking. •"' Meddle. 



30o 



APPENDIX. 



thy body, nor thou theirs; for, if thou do it, thou wilt be confounded and 
brought to shame.' 

" By this man had spoken thir words unto the King's grace, the evening- 
song was near done, and the King paused on thir words, studying to give 
him an answer : but, in the meantime, before the King's eyes, and in the 
presence of all the lords that were about him for the time, this man van- 
ished away, and could no ways be seen or comprehended, but vanished 
away as he had been a blink of the sun, or a whip of the whirlwind, and 
could no more be seen. 1 heard say, Sir David Lindesay, Lyon-herauld, 
and John Inglis the marshal, who were, at that time, young men, and 
special servants to the King's grace, were standing presently beside the 
King, who thought to have laid hands on this man, that they might have 
speired further tidings at him; But all for nought: they could not touch 
him ; for he vanished away betwixt them, and was no more seen." 

Buchanan, in more elegant, though not more impressive language, tells 
the same story, and quotes the personal information of our Sir David Lin- 
desay : — " In Us, (i.e. qui propius astiterant) fuit David Iindesius 7 
Montanus, homo speclatce fidei et probitatis, nee a literarum studiis alie- 
nus, et cujus totius vita tenor longissime a mentiendo aberrat ; a quo nisi 
ego hece tcti tradidi, pro certis accepissem, ut valgatam vanis rumoribits 
fabulum, omissurus eram." — Lib. xiii. The King's throne, in St. Cathe- 
rine's aisle, which he had constructed for himself, with twelve stalls for the 
Knights Companions of the Order of the Thistle is still shown as the place 
where the apparition was seen. I know not by what means St. Andrew 
got the credit of having been the celebrated monitor of James IV.; for the 
expression in Lindesay's narrative, " My mother has sent me," could only 
be used by St. John, the adopted son of the Virgin Mary. The whole 
story is so well attested, that we have only the choice between a miracle or 
an imposture. Mr. Pinkerton plausibly argues, from the caution against 
incontinence, that the Queen was privy to the scheme of those who had 
recourse to this expedient, to deter King James from his impolitic war. 

Note M. 

Archibald Bell-the- Cat. — P. 197. 

Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for strength of 
body and mind, acquired the popular name of Bell-the- Cat, upon the fol- 
lowing remarkable occasion : — James the Third, of whom Pitscottie com- 
plains that he delighted more in music and "policies of building," than in 



MARMIOJV. 



301 



hunting, hawking, and other noble exercises, was so ill advised as to make 
favorites of his architects and musicians, whom the same historian irrev- 
erently terms masons and fiddlers. His nobility, who did not sympathize 
in the King's respect for the fine arts, were extremely incensed at the hon- 
ors conferred on those persons, particularly on Cochrane, a mason, who 
had been created Earl of Mar; and, seizing the opportunity, when, in 
1482, the King had convoked the whole array of the country to march 
against the English, they held a midnight council in the church of Lauder, 
for the purpose of forcibly removing these minions from the King's person. 
When all had agreed on the propriety of this measure, Lord Gray told the 
assembly the apologue of the Mice, who had formed a resolution that it 
would be highly advantageous to their community to tie a bell round the 
cat's neck, that they might hear her approach at a distance; but which 
public measure unfortunately miscarried, from no mouse being willing to 
undertake the task of fastening the bell. " I understand the moral," said 
Angus, "and, that what we propose may not lack execution, I will bell the 
cat." The rest of the strange scene is thus told by Pitscottie : — 

" By this was advised and spoken by thir lords foresaid, Cochran, the 
Earl of Mar, came from the King to the council, (which council was 
hoi den in the kirk of Lauder for the time,) who was well accompanied 
with a band of men of war, to the number of three hundred light axes, all 
clad in white livery, and black bends thereon, that they might be known 
for Cochran the Earl of Mar's men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie of 
black velvet, with a great chain of gold about his neck, to the value of five 
hundred crowns, and four blowing horns, with both the ends of gold and 
silk, set with a precious stone called a berryl, hanging in the midst. This 
Cochran had his heumont born before him, overgilt with gold, and so were 
all the rest of his horns, and all his pallions were of fine canvas of silk, 
and the cords thereof fine twined silk, and the chains upon his pallions 
were double overgilt with gold. 

" This Cochran was so proud in his conceit, that he counted no lords to 
be marrows to him, therefore he rushed rudely at the kirk-door. The 
council enquired who it was that perturbed them at that time. Sir Robert 
Douglas, Laird of Lochleven, was keeper of the kirk-door at that time, 
who enquired who that was that knocked so rudely? and Cochran an- 
swered 'This is I, the Earl of Mar.' The which news pleased well the 
lords, because they were ready boun to cause take him, as is before re- 
hearsed. Then the Earl of Angus passed hastily to the door, and with 
him Sir Robert Douglas of Lochleven, there to receive in the Earl of Mai, 
and so many of his complices who were there, as they thought good. And 



302 



APPENDIX. 



the Earl of Angus met with the Earl of Mar, as he came in at the door, 
and pulled the golden chain from his craig, and said to him, a tow ' would 
set him better. Sir Robert Douglas syne pulled the blowing horn from 
him in like manner, and said, ' He had been the hunter of mischief over- 
long.' This Cochran asked, 'My lords, is it mows 2 or earnest?' They 
answered, and said, ' It is good earnest, and so thou shalt find; for thou 
and thy complices have abused our prince this long time; of whom thou 
shalt have no more credence, but shalt have thy reward according to thy 
good service, as thou hast deserved in times bypast; right so the rest of 
thy followers.' 

" Notwithstanding, the lords held them quiet till they caused certain 
armed men to pass into the King's pallion, and two or three wise men to 
pass with them, and give the King fair pleasant words, till they laid hands 
on all the King's servants, and took them and hanged them before his 
eyes over the Bridge of Lauder. Incontinent they brought forth Cochran, 
and his hands bound with a tow, who desired them to take one of his own 
pallion tows and bind his hands, for he thought shame to have his hands 
bound with such tow of hemp like a thief. The lords answered, he was a 
traitor, he deserved no better ; and, for despight, they took a hair tether, 3 
and hanged him over the bridge of Lauder, above the rest of his com- 
plices." — PlTSCOTTiE, p. 78, folio edit. 



Note N. 

This awful summons came. — P. 211. 

This supernatural citation is mentioned by all our Scottish historians. 
It was, probably, like the apparition at Linlithgow, an attempt, by those 
averse to the war, to impose upon the superstitious temper of James IV. 
The following account from Pitscottie is characteristically minute, and fur- 
nishes, besides, some curious particulars of the equipment of the army of 
James IV. I need only add to it, that Plotcock, or Plutcock, is no other 
than Pluto. The Christians of the middle ages by no means misbelieved 
in the existence of the heathen deities; they only considered them as 
devils; 4 and Plotcock, so far from implying any thing fabulous, was a 

1 Rope. 2 Jest. 3 Halter. 

4 See, on this curious subject, the Essay on Fairies, in the " Border Minstrelsy," vol. 

ii., under the fourth head; also Jackson on Unbelief, p. 175. Chaucer calls Pluto the 

" King of Faerie "; and Dunbar names him, " Pluto, that elrich incubus." If he was not 

actually the devil, he must be considered as the "prince of the power of the au\" The 



MARMION. ' 303 



synonyme of the grand enemy of mankind. " Yet all thir warnings, and 
uncouth tidings, nor no good counsel, might stop the King, at this present, 
from his vain purpose, and wicked enterprize, but hasted him fast to Edin- 
burgh, and there to make his provision and furnishing, in having forth of 
his army against the day appointed, that they should meet in the Burrow- 
muir of Edinburgh : That is to say, seven canons that he had forth of the 
Castle of Edinburgh, which were called the Seven Sisters, casten by Rob- 
ert Borthwick, the master-gunner, with other small artillery, bullet, pow- 
der, and all manner of order, as the master-gunner could devise. 

" In this meantime, when they were taking forth their artillery, and the 
King being in the Abbey for the time, there was a cry heard at the Mar- 
ket-cross of Edinburgh, at the hour of midnight, proclaiming as it had been 
a summons, which was named and called by the proclauner thereof, The 
summons of Plotcock; which desired all men to compear, both Earl, and 
Lord, and Baron, and all honest gentlemen within the town, (every man 
specified by his own name,) to compear, within the space of forty days, 
before his master, where it should happen him to appoint, and be for the 
time, under the pain of disobedience. But whether this summons was pro- 
claimed by vain persons, night-walkers, or drunken men, for their pastime, 
or if it was a spirit, I cannot tell truly; but it was shewn to me, that an in- 
dweller of the town, Mr. Richard Lawson, being evil-disposed, ganging in 
his gallery-stair foreanent the Cross, hearing this voice proclaiming this 
summons, thought marvel what it should be, cried on his servant to bring 
him his purse; and when he had brought him it, he took out a crown, and 
cast over the stair, saying, ' I appeal from that summons, judgment, and 
sentence thereof, and takes me all whole in the mercy of God, and Christ 
Jesus his son.' Verily, the author of this, that caused me write the manner 
of this summons, was a landed gentleman, who was at that time twenty 
years of age, and was in the town the time of the said summons; and 
thereafter, when the field was stricken, he swore to me, there was no man 
that escaped that was called in this summons, but that one man alone 
which made his protestation, and appealed from the said summons; but 
all the lave were perished in the field with the king." 

most remarkable instance of these surviving classical superstitions, is that of the Germans, 
concerning the Hill of Venus, into which she attempts to entice all gallant knights, and 
detains them there in a sort of Fools' Paradise. 



304 



APPENDIX. 



Note O. 

Where my great-grandsire came of old, 
With amber beard and flaxen hair. — P. 228. 
Mr. Scott of Harden, my kind and affectionate friend, and distant rela- 
tion, has the original of a poetical invitation, addressed from his grand- 
father to my relative, from which a few lines in the text are imitated. 
They are dated, as the epistle in the text, from Mertoun-house, the seat of 
the Harden family. 

" With amber beard, and flaxen hair, 
And reverend apostolic air, 
Free of anxiety and care, 
Come hither, Christmas-day, and dine; 
We'll mix sobriety with wine, 
And easy mirth with thoughts divine. 
We Christians think it holiday, 
On it no sin to feast or play; 
Others, in spite, may fast and pray. 
No superstition in the use 
Our ancestors made of a goose ; 
Why may not we, as well as they, 
Be innocently blithe that day, 
On goose or pie, on wine or ale, 
And scorn enthusiastic zeal? — 
Pray come, and welcome, or plague rott 
Your friend and landlord Walter Scott. 
"Mr. Walter Scott Lessuden." 

The venerable old gentleman, to whom the lines are addressed, was the 
younger brother of William Scott of Raeburn. Being the cadet of a cadet 
of the Harden family, he had very little to lose; yet he contrived to lose 
the small property he had, by engaging in the civil wars and intrigues of 
the house of Stuart. His veneration for the exiled family was so great, 
that he swore he would not shave his beard till they were restored : a mark 
of attachment, which, I suppose, had been common during Cromwell's 
usurpation; for, in Cowley's "Cutter of Coleman Street," one drunken 
cavalier upbraids another, that, when he was not able to afford to pay a 
barber, he affected to " wear a beard for the King." I sincerely hope this 
was not absolutely the original reason of my ancestor's beard; which, as 
appears from a portrait in the possession of Sir Henry Hay Macdougal, 
Bart., and another painted for the famous Dr. Pitcairn, 1 was a beard of a 
most dignified and venerable appearance. 

1 The old gentleman was an intimate friend of this celebrated genius. By the favor of 
the late Earl of Kellie, descended on the maternal side from Dr. Pitcairn, my father be- 
came possessed of the portrait in question. 



MARM10N. 



305 



Note P. 

The Spirit's Blasted Tree. — P. 230. 

I am permitted to illustrate this passage, by inserting " Ceubren yr 
Ellyll, or The Spirit's Blasted Tree," a legendary tale, by the Reverend 
George Warrington : — 

" The event, on which this tale is founded, is preserved by tradition in 
the family of the Vaughans of Hengwyrt; nor is it entirely lost, even 
among the common people, who still point out this oak to the passenger. 
The enmity between the two Welsh chieftains, Howel Sele, and Owen 
Glendwr, was extreme, and marked by vile .treachery in the one, and fero- 
cious cruelty in the other. 1 The story is somewhat changed and softened, 
as more favorable to the character of the two chiefs, and as better answer- 
ing the purpose of poetry, by admitting the passion of pity, and a greater 
degree of sentiment in the description. Some trace of Howel Sele's man- 
sion was to be seen a few years ago, and may perhaps be still visible, in 
the park of Nannau, now belonging to Sir Robert Vaughan, Baronet, in 
the wild and romantic tracts of Merionethshire. The abbey mentioned 
passes under two names, Vener and Cymmer. The former is retained, as 
more generally used. 

THE SPIRIT'S BLASTED TREE. 

Ceubren yr Ellyll. 

" Through Nannau's Chase as Howell pass'd, 
A chief esteem'd both brave and kind, 
Far distant borne, the stag-hounds' cry- 
Came murmuring on the hollow wind. 

" Starting, he bent an eager ear, — 

How should the sounds return again? 
His hounds lay wearied from the chase, 
And all at home his hunter train. 

" Then sudden anger flash'd his eye, 
And deep revenge he vow'd to take, 
On that bold man who dared to force 
His red-deer from the forest brake. 

" Unhappy Chief! would nought avail, 
No signs impress thy heart with fear, 
The lady's dark mysterious dream, 
Thy warning from the hoary seer? 

1 The history of their feud may be found in Pennant's Tour in Wales. 



306 



APPENDIX. 



Three ravens gave the note of death, 

As through mid air they wing'd their way : 

Then o'er his head, in rapid flight, 

They croak, — they scent their destined prey. 

: Ill-omen'd bird! as legends say, 

Who hast the wondrous power to know, 

While health fills high the throbbing veins, 

The fated hour when blood must flow. 

: Blinded by rage, alone he pass'd, 
Nor sought his ready vassals' aid; 
But what his fate lay long unknown, 
For many an anxious year delay'd. 

1 A peasant mark'd his angry eye, 

He saw him reach the lake's dark bourne, 
He saw him near a Blasted Oak, 
But never from that hour return. 

' Three days pass'd o'er, no tidings came; — 
Where should the Chief his steps delay? 
With wild alarm the servants ran, 

Yet knew not where to point their way. 

' His vassals ranged the mountain's height, 
The covert close, the wide-spread plain; 
But all in vain their eager search, 
They ne'er must see their lord again. 

' Yet Fancy, in a thousand shapes, 

Bore to his home the Chief once more: 
Some saw him on high Moat's top, 
Some saw him on the winding shore. 

" With wonder fraught the tale went round, 
Amazement chain'd the hearer's tongue: 
Each peasant felt his own sad loss, 
Yet fondly o'er the story hung. 

" Oft by the moon's pale shadowy light, 
His aged nurse and steward gray 
Would lean to catch the storied sounds, 
Or mark the flitting spirit stray. 

" Pale lights on Cader's rocks were seen, 
And midnight voices heard to moan; 
'Twas even said the Blasted Oak, 
Convulsive, heaved a hollow groan : 



MARMION. 



307 



" And to this day the peasant still, 

With cautious fear avoids the ground; 
In each wild branch a spectre sees, 
And trembles at each rising sound. 

" Ten annual suns had held their course, 
In summer's smile, or winter storm; 
The lady shed the widow'd tear, 
As oft she traced his manly form. 

" Yet still to hope her heart would cling, 
As o'er the mind illusions play, — 
Of travel fond, perhaps her lord 

To distant lands had steer'd his way. 

" 'Twas now November's cheerless hour, 

Which drenching rains and clouds deface, 
Dreary bleak Robell's tract appear'd, 
And dull and dank each valley's space. 

" Loud o'er the weir the hoarse flood fell, 
And dashed the foaming spray on high; 
The west wind bent the forest tops, 
And angry frown'd the evening sky. 

" A stranger pass'd Llanelltid's bourne, 

His dark-gray steed with sweat besprent, 
Which, wearied with the lengthen'd way, 
Could scarcely gain the hill's ascent. 

" The portal reach'd — the iron bell 

Loud sounded round the outward wall; 
Quick sprang the warder to the gate, 
To know what meant the clam'rous call. 

" ' O ! lead me to your lady soon ; 
Say, — it is my sad lot to tell, 
To clear the fate of that brave knight, 
She long has proved she loved so well.' 

" Then, as he cross'd the spacious hall, 
The menials look surprise and fear; 
Still o'er his harp old Modred hung, 
And touch'd the notes for griefs worn ear. 

" The lady sat amidst her train; 

A mellow'd sorrow mark'd her look : 
Then, asking what his mission meant, 

The graceful stranger sigh'd and spoke: — 



308 



APPENDIX. 



" ' O could I spread one ray of hope, 

One moment raise thy soul from woe, 
Gladly my tongue would tell its tale, 
My words at ease unfetter'd flow! 

" ' Now, lady, give attention due, 
The story claims thy full belief : 
E'en in the worst events of life, 
Suspense removed is some relief. 

" ' Though worn by care, see Madoc here, 
Great Glyndwr's friend, thy kindred's foe; 
Ah, let his name no anger raise, 

For now that mighty Chief lies low. 

" ' E'en from the day, when, chain'd by fate, 
By wizard's dream, or potent spell, 
Lingering from sad Salopia's field, 
'Reft of his aid the Percy fell; — 

" ' E'en from that day misfortune still, 
As if for violated faith, 
Pursued him with unwearied step ; 
Vindictive still for Hotspur's death. 

" ' Vanquish'd at length, the Glyndwr fled 
Where winds the Wye her devious flood; 
To find a casual shelter there, 
In some lone cot, or desert wood. 

" ' Clothed in a shepherd's humble guise, 
He gain'd by toil his scanty bread; 
He who had Cambria's sceptre borne, 
And her brave sons to glory led ! 

" ' To penury extreme, and grief, 

The Chieftain fell a lingering prey; 
I heard his last few faltering words, 
Such as with pain I now convey. 

" ' To Sele's sad widow bear the tale, 

Nor let our horrid secret rest; 

Give but his corse to sacred earth, 

Then may my parting soul be blest. — 

" ' Dim wax'd the eye that fiercely shone, 
And faint the tongue that proudly spoke, 
And weak that arm, still raised to me, 
Which oft had dealt the mortal stroke. 



MARM10N. 



309 



' How could I then his mandate bear? 

Or how his last behest obey? 
A rebel deem'd, with him I (led; 

With him I shunn'd the light of day. 

' Proscribed by Henry's hostile rage, 
My country lost, despoil'd my land, 

Desperate, I fled my native soil, 
And fought on Syria's distant strand. 

' O, had thy long-lamented lord 
The holy cross and banner view'd, 

Died in the sacred cause ! who fell 
Sad victim of a private feud ! 

' Led by the ardor of the chase, 
Far distant from his own domain, 

From where Garthmaelan spreads her shades, 
The Glyndwr sought the opening plain. 

' With head aloft, and antlers wide, 

A red buck roused then cross'd in view : 

Stung with the sight, and wild with rage, 
Swift from the wood fierce Howel flew. 

' With bitter taunt, and keen reproach, 
He, all impetuous, pour'd his rage; 

Reviled the Chief as weak in arms, 
And bade him loud the battle wage. 

' Glyndwr for once restrain'd his sword, 
And, still averse, the fight delays; 

But soften'd words, like oil to fire, 
Made anger more intensely blaze. 

' They fought; and doubtful long the fray! 

The Glyndwr gave the fatal wound ! — 
Still mournful must my tale proceed, 

And its last act all dreadful sound. 

' How could we hope for wish'd retreat, 

His eager vassals ranging wide, 
His bloodhounds' keen sagacious scent, 

O'er many a trackless mountain tried? 

' I mark'd a broad and Blasted Oak, 
Scorch'd by the lightning's livid glare; 

Hollow its stem from branch to root, 
And all its shrivell'd arms were bare. 



310 APPENDIX. 



" ' Be this, I cried, his proper grave! 

(The thought in me was deadly sin,) 
Aloft we raised the hapless Chief, 
And dropp'd his bleeding corpse within.' 

" A shriek from all the damsels burst, 
That pierced the vaulted roofs below ; 
While horror-struck the Lady stood, 
A living form of sculptured woe. 

" With stupid stare, and vacant gaze, 
Full on his face her eyes were cast, 
Absorb'd! — she lost her present grief, 
And faintly thought of things long past. 

" Like wild-fire o'er a mossy heath, 

The rumor through the hamlet ran; 

The peasants crowd at morning dawn, 

To hear the tale — behold the man. 

" He led them near the Blasted Oak, 

Then, conscious, from the scene withdrew; 
The peasants work with trembling haste, 
And lay the whiten'd bones to view ! — 

" Back they recoil'd! — the right hand still 

Contracted, grasp'd a rusty sword; 

Which erst in many a battle gleam'd, 

And proudly deck'd their slaughter'd lord. 

" They bore the corse to Vener's shrine, 
With holy rites and prayers address'd; 
Nine white-robed monks the last dirge sang, 
And gave the angry spirit rest," 



Note Q. 

Hence might they see the full array 

Of either host, for deadly fray. — ■ P. 259. 

The reader cannot here expect a full account of the Battle of Flodden; 
but, so far as is necessary to understand the romance, I beg to remind him, 
that, when the English army, by their skilful countermarch, were fairly 
placed between King James and his own country, the Scottish monarch 
resolved to fight; and, setting fire to his tents, descended from the ridge 



MARMION. 2 1 1 



of Flodden to secure the neighboring eminence of Brankstone, on which 
that village is built. Thus the two armies met, almost without seeing each 
other, when, according to the old poem of "Flodden Field," 

" The English line stretch'd east and west, 

And southward were their faces set ; 

The Scottish northward proudly prest, 

And manfully their foes they met." 

The English army advanced in four divisions. On the right, which first 
engaged, were the sons of Earl Surrey, namely, Thomas Howard, the 
Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, the Knight Marshal of the army. 
Their divisions were separated from each other; but, at the request of Sir 
Edmund, his brother's battalion Mas drawn very near to his own. The 
centre was commanded by Surrey in person; the left wing by Sir Edward 
Stanley, with the men of Lancashire, and of the palatinate of Chester. 
Lord Dacres, with a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the 
smoke, which the wind had driven between the armies, was somewhat dis- 
persed, they perceived the Scots, who had moved down the hill in a simi- 
lar order of battle, and in deep silence. 1 The Earls of Huntly and of 
Flome commanded their left wing, and charged Sir Edmund Howard with 
such success, as entirely to defeat his part of the English right wing. Sir 
Edmund's banner was beaten down, and he himself escaped with difficulty 
to his brother's division. The Admiral, however, stood firm; and Dacre, 
advancing to his support with the reserve of cavalry, probably between the 
interval of the divisions commanded by the brothers Howard, appears to 
have kept the victors in effectual check. Home's men, chiefly Borderers, 
began to pillage the baggage of both armies ; and their leader is branded, 
by the Scottish historians, with negligence or treachery. On the other 
hand, Huntly, on whom they bestow many encomiums,'is said, by the Eng- 
lish historians, to have left the field after the first charge. Meanwhile the 
Admiral, whose flank these chiefs ought to have attacked, availed himself 
of their inactivity, and pushed forward against another large division cf 
the Scottish army in his front, headed by the Earls of Crawford and Mont- 
rose, both of whom were slain, and their forces routed. On the left, the 
success of the English was yet more decisive; for the Scottish right wing, 
consisting of undisciplined Highlanders, commanded by Lennox and 
Argyle, was unable to sustain the charge of Sir Edward Stanley, and es- 

1 " Lesquels Escossois descendirent la montaigne en bonne ordre, en la maniere 
que movement les Allemans sans parler, ne /aire aucuu bruit." — Gazette of the 
battle, Pinkerton's History, Appendix, vol. ii., p. 456. 



312 



APPENDIX. 



pecially the severe execution of the Lancashire archers. The King and 
Surrey, .who commanded the respective centres of their armies, were mean- 
while engaged in close and dubious conflict. James, surrounded by the 
flower of his kingdom, and impatient of the galling discharge of arrows, 
supported also by his reserve under Bothwell, charged with such fury, that 
the standard of Surrey was in danger. At that critical moment, Stanley, 
who had routed the left wing of the Scottish, pursued his career of victory, 
and arrived on the right flank, and in the rear of James's division, which, 
throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night came on. Surrey 
then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre not having been broken, 
and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event of the field. 
The Scottish army, however, felt their loss, and abandoned the field of 
battle in disorder, before dawn. They lost, perhaps, from eight to ten 
thousand men; but that included the very prime of their nobility, gentry, 
and even clergy. Scarce a family of eminence but has an ancestor killed 
at Flodden; and there is no province in Scotland, even at this day, where 
the battle is mentioned without a sensation of terror and sorrow. The 
English lost also a great number of men, perhaps within one-third of the 
vanquished, but they were of inferior note. — See the only distinct detail of 
the field of Flodden in Pinkerton's History, Book xi.; all former ac- 
counts being full of blunders and inconsistency. 

The spot from which Clara views the battle must be supposed to have 
been on a hillock commanding the rear of the English right wing, which 
was defeated, and in which conflict Marmion is supposed to have fallen. 1 

1 [" In 1810, as Sir Carnaby Haggerstone's workmen were digging in Flodden Field, 
they came to a pit filled with human bones, and which seemed of great extent; but, 
alarmed at the sight, they immediately filled up the excavation, and proceeded no further. 

" In 1817, Mr. Grey of Millfield Hill found, near the traces of an ancient encampment, 
a short distance from Flodden Hill, a tumulus, which, on removing, exhibited a very sin- 
gular sepulchre. In the centre, a large urn was found, but in a thousand pieces. It had 
either been broken to pieces by the stones falling upon it when digging, or had gone to 
pieces on the admission of the air. This urn was surrounded by a number of cells formed 
of flat stones, in the shape of graves, but too small to hold the body in its natural state. 
These sepulchral recesses contained nothing except ashes, or dust of the same kind as that 
in the urn." — Sykes' Local Records (2 vols. 8vo, 1833), vol. ii. pp. 60 and 109.] 



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